The Choice
by AdayaMarie
Summary: Lena, a trained intelligence agent for a third party finds herself caught in Division's web of lies. Can she learn the truth in time and save the people she loves? Rated T- for some language and violence. Primarily, Birkhoff/OC, some M/N later on.
1. Chapter 1

_**I own nothing, this show is the property of the CW. **_

She could taste the blood in her mouth. She ran her tongue slowly over her teeth, they all seemed to be there. _Good, less clean up if I get out of here._ She thought. She probably split her lip or maybe the blood was coming from her nose. It wasn't the first time she broke her nose, or the second. But it wasn't the pain in her face that kept her from moving. It was the sharp pain in her chest every time she drew in a breath that held her to the floor. Broken ribs, she thought to herself, if she got a chance to run that would be a problem. As the stabbing pain continued she realized she beyond the point of running. She could hardly see out of her right eye, his first strike had been one of the worst. She had been hit so many times today, she wasn't sure how long it had gone on. She hadn't been conscious for all of it, she knew that much. Her head hurt more than any headache she'd had in her entire life. A concussion, she thought to herself, hopefully nothing more serious.

They had left her alone for a moment. Well, not entirely alone, they were still in the room but he had taken a short break from beating her. She laid on the cold cement floor, the coolness felt good on her body, even though every part of her hurt.

She heard the door open and her head exploded as the door screeched open scrapping against the cement floor. "Go get cleaned up." A man's gravely voice said clearly, and a parade of footsteps left the room and the door shrieked shut again. In four relaxed steps the new man crossed the room. She watched his jet black oxfords step across the floor. Instead of moving toward her like she expected he walked over to a chair just a few feet from her, sat down and waited. She didn't even try to turn her head so she could see his face. She knew who he was.

So this was going to be how he played it. He wanted her to make the first sound. He wanted her to beg for him not to hurt her anymore. He was waiting for her to plead for her life. He wanted her to ask him what he wanted. He wanted her to ask him what she could do to make the beatings stop. She wouldn't play his game.

"_Tell me where you hid them Claire, I promise I won't get mad." A twenty year old Michael questions his nine year old sister who is sitting stone faced with her chair turned away from the dining room table staring at the wall behind him. _

"_It's just you and me, I won't tell mom." The little girls brown eyes don't move from the wall paper behind him. He steps into her field of gaze and she stares vacantly up into his face. "Where did you put the keys to my Jeep?" he says slowly enunciating every word. Her eyes remain blank and her face reveals nothing. _

"_I know you don't want me to leave but I'll leave, with or without my Jeep. This won't stop me." She redirects her gaze at the wall. "I'm gonna be gone at least six months is this really how you want me to leave? Angry with you?" He walks back into the kitchen and pulls open a junk drawer and picks through it. The curly haired girl watches him but her face remains stoic. He's already checked that drawer, and she hid both sets of car keys not just his everyday set, she's not an amateur. "Damit Claire!" he snaps slamming the drawer shut, losing his composure. _

"_Tell me where they are!" He barks "I'll call a *$&ing locksmith!" he shouts, she directs her stare away from him again and back to the wall not reacting in the slightest to his outburst. _

"_And I'll tell mom you swore." She whispers speaking for the first time. _

"_She'll be more angry with you for hiding my keys! But, I won't tell her if you give them back."_

"_No, she'll be mad you swore." She whispers, glancing up menacingly in his direction, and he knows she's right. Cursing in Claire's presence is not tollerated in this house. He takes a few short breaths and combs his fingers over his freshly buzzed hair, clearly he hasn't learned anything from his interrogation tutorials. _

"_What do you want from me Claire?" He questions finally conceding and asking her openly what she wants to gain. _

_He watches as the tears build up in the nine year olds eyes as she stares at the wall. He waits, any other child would break down sobbing, but his stupid sister can hold out forever. He knows it makes her sad when he leaves, he knows she misses him when he is gone and he knows that however safe he tells her he is, she's afraid he won't come home. _

_She won't tell him what she's thinking, not when she gets upset. Most kids cry and bawl and tell the world everything that made them sad or angry. They tell their parents which kid was mean to them at school, how they scrapped their knee, or how her best friend got the exact same toy they really wanted for Christmas. Claire is the opposite, if she's upset she just shuts down. She won't tell anyone anything until the moment has passed. He's never been sure if it's a conscious decision not to speak or if she truly just can't get the words out, like some kind of strange stutter. If he was around tomorrow after she calmed down she might tell him but today she won't. _

"_MICHAEL! We need to go!" their mother shouts as she walks quickly down the stairs."Good, you're packed," she reaches for one of the duffles on the floor and groans as she tries to lift it from the floor. "on second thought, you put them in the car." _

_Michael walks over and picks up the duffle bag with ease "I'll need your keys." _

_Samantha, their mother, locks her eyes on her daughter in the next room, without breaking her gaze she finds her car keys in her purse and holds them out for Michael. Claire redirects her eyes down at the floor looking guilty for the first time in the exchange. He takes the keys from his mom and drags his bags out to her car. "Claire, sweetheart, he wants to drive his jeep to the airport. Where did you put his keys?" _

_The little girl doesn't move. "Fine Claire, get in the car, let's go see him off." Every parent thinks their child is stubborn, but Samantha's convinced they haven't met stubborn till they've met her kids. The little girl shakes her head furiously. "Now you won't come to the airport?"Samantha half whines at her daughter but she doesn't move off the chair where Michael set her to question her. "Fine Claire, we don't have time for this, he can't miss his flight. If you don't want to go then don't go." She turns around and walks briskly back through the kitchen "Keep the doors locked while I'm gone, stay here, don't answer the door, don't tell anyone on the phone you're home alone, and no friends over." She rattles off the usual rules as she heads for the garage. "Michael! Say goodbye to your sister she doesn't want to come to the airport." The mother walks swiftly out the door as Michael steps back into the house. _

"_You're going to be like this? Really Claire?" He shuffles through the kitchen and crouches down, right in front of her face. "Fine, I'll say goodbye if you won't. I'll miss you kid, I'll see you when I get home." He kisses her on her forehead as the tears begin to fall silently down her face. "I love you, And when I get home I'll want my keys, so don't lose them!" He teases finally smiling at her, he can't stay mad at her, and he doesn't want to leave her thinking he really is angry. _

"_Promise you'll come back!" she chokes through the tears, it's the command that kills him, it's the promise she always wants him to make. He knows that what he does is dangerous and in reality he can't promise he'll come back. But he's also young and invincible in his own eyes. He makes the promise because it makes her feel better about him leaving, if it makes her cry just a little bit less it's worth it. _

_He didn't know what made him choose the words he choose. As he says the words his stomach turns, and although he's said similar words to her before, he feels for the first time like he might be lying to her. "I'll always come back for you." _

She coughed, oh it really hurt to cough, it was the pain that woke her up. Had she really fallen asleep? No, she was in far too much pain to fall asleep, she must have passed out. Slipping in and out of consciousness was not a good sign. When she opened her eyes she saw blood on the floor in front of her. Had she coughed up all that blood? This might be worse than she had thought…

"I'll make this quick, tell me where Director Lauriet's disk and keys are, and I'll get someone in here to clean you up." His gravely voice pierced through her own thoughts. She could tell a few things from the one sentence he spoke. She'd learned a lot about reading people, in her line of work she needed to. First he didn't really care where the disk was, it wasn't personal for him. Second, he wasn't terribly uncomfortable with her lying on the floor in pain. His voice was void of all emotion. She doubted he was as malicious as the man who had done this too her, otherwise he would have done the beating, but he was not about to give her any relief. She couldn't play him; she couldn't whine a little louder, cry out in pain constantly, or force more blood up. He wouldn't cave and it was possible he was prepared to watch her die in front of him. Third, and potentially the most significant for better or worse, he didn't have a clue who she was.

"_Your statement, it was extensive. It took some time to verify." A kind faced middle aged man sits across the desk from her paging through the documents on his desk. The room is unremarkable, a small office with only a desk, two chairs, an ugly fake plant, and a window. The view out the window shows small regional airline carriers taking off and landing close by. "Your test scores are all proficient, you rated exceedingly high on the field work portion of the test, not surprising given your training. And you passed our psychiatric evaluation. I think we may have a place for you here Ms. Ross. That is of course, if you are still willing."_

"_I am." She answers simply. _

"_There is one project in particular I think you would be useful for. Given your current employers you may be in a optimal position to gather some information for us. You are not oppose to returning to the Alliance? Acting as a sort of double agent?" _

"_I can go back."_

"_Good, of course you aren't the only double agent in that affiliate. We tolerate their existence mostly because of the intelligence they are able to gather for us. It's a fairly disorganized group, I'll get you the files to read, so you are up to date. There is minimal danger of being found out as a double agent through them. The greater danger, we suspect comes from the organization you are gathering information about." _

_She nods in confirmation, "Now the assignment I am purposing, it is highly classified, and it is uncommon for us to assign such a new agent to a highly classified project but given your background, training, and connections we believe you are a good match. We have been receiving intelligence of some high level, organized, espionage activity. We can't attribute it to any of our enemies, or any allies. There are suspicions, nothing confirmed, that it may be one of our branches, carrying out unsanctioned actions. You are to gather information about this unknown organization. From a position outside of the U.S. Government you are to learn about this group. Because of the sensitive nature of this project, you report only to me, your handler, and the director of the CIA himself. This is not the type of mission that will be discussed at staff meetings. No other CIA staff will be aware of your allegiance. The chair of the Senate intelligence committee himself, will be unaware of your involvement. We strongly suspect there are high level officers aware of these activites and they are actively engaged in covering it up. Your reports will be paper only, scheduled dead drops, coordinated with your handler, I don't want an electronic trail on this."_

"_If I'm not labeled as CIA what is to stop your own operatives from capturing or killing me?"_

"_You will be labeled as an informant. An asset. Agents will be authorized to arrest you, but are under strict orders not to kill you or seriously harm you.. You are wanted to provide important information on highly classified security systems. I didn't even need to make that up." A slight smile crosses his face, and then in an instant it's gone. He stares directly into her eyes, trying to gauge her reaction to his proposal. "That being said there, is always an inherent risk in our line of work."_

She coughed again, "Oh Shit!" she heard from somewhere nearby. It wasn't the same voice as before, and it wasn't one of the men who had beaten her earlier, it was the voice of the man who had spoken to her when she had first been brought into the building. Before the beating had started."Lena? Are you awake?" his voice was concerned, and a little frantic, but he kept his words slow and even. She couldn't answer him, she tried to open her eyes but everything was blurry. "That's it, open your eyes, come on." he coached. She forced her eyes to stay open even though she couldn't make out the man's face. He was seated staring down on her; they weren't on the floor anymore. "Lena can you show me where it hurts?" Everything hurt she thought to herself but she didn't even try to speak, she was too tired. "We have to do something." That time his voice wasn't directed at her, it was directed somewhere else. There was a strength and a confidence in his voice. He might be someone she could believe in, for now.

"_You blew the opp! you idiot." She snaps as she wrenches open the driver's side door of the van. A man sits in the driver's seat, grasping the side of his head. He groans softly as she carefully pulls off his gold wire rimmed glasses and brushes his messy brown hair out of the way to reveal a goose-egg, already beginning to form just above his eyebrow. _

"_You'll thank me later." He answers. _

"_Move over. We need to get out of here." He crawls over to the passenger seat as she leaps into the van and skillfully pulls away from the collision he just caused. "You compromised the opp." _

"_The opp was already blown, he didn't have the data on him." He answers as he looks around the van for something cold to put on his head. _

"_You don't know that. You were tasked to watch and listen, not cause a head on collision. If this van didn't have a ramming gate on the front we would be stuck out here with out extraction! You just don't think do you?" She spits as she weaves easily in and out of traffic, going faster than any other car on the road way. "And even if he didn't have it, he might have led us to it if you would have followed his car!" _

"_What, and leave you behind with his guards?" He snaps back angrily. "So they can shoot you as soon as they realize they've been compromised. I didn't peg you as the sacrificial type."_

"_I would have gotten free. I've been in worse situations."_

"_yea well, I didn't want to take that chance!" He hisses. "It was my call. I made it and I don't want to hear anything out of you." They sit in silence for few moments as she continues to drive. The man eventually finds a first aid kit and places the ice pack on his forehead. _

"_What did you hit your head on?" she asks cautiously, a small smile creeping across her face. _

_He waits a moment taking a few short breaths to calm himself. He looks up at her, she is smiling softly, he feels the corners of his mouth turn up slightly; it is a strange feeling for him. He's not used to smiling. In fact, he's not used to people smiling at him and least of all, he isn't used to seeing a smile reach the person's eyes. Her cautious smile lights up her eyes, even in the dark. "The laptop. I didn't secure my laptop before I rammed his car." He watches as the smile grows larger across her face. _

"_My employers aren't going to like this." She whispers as she comes to a red stoplight. She turns to look into his pale blue eyes and gently raises her hand to brush back his dirty hair away from his eyes. She lets it rest there. He removes the ice pack from his head as he turns his face toward her. _

"_Yea neither are mine." His voice is barely audible and he raises his hand to catch hers, then kisses her palm. _

It wasn't her own pain that woke her up that time, it was the arguing. They were so loud. Her head started to explode again. She didn't even try to open her eyes as she heard the two men fighting about her.

"She needs a doctor!" the one who had been sitting by her earlier bellowed

"Amanda doesn't have one in the area." The gravely voiced man answerd. His voice was much calmer.

"Then she needs to go to a hospital."

"You know we can't do that."

"No! what I know is that I don't want this innocent girl dying in front of me! There's a reason I hide behind a computer, I can't handle this!" she hears his boots stamp angrily across the floor.

"She is certainly not innocent, Birkhoff."

"Yea well, she had the chance to kill me, she didn't, and she had the chance to kill you, twice! In our line of work, she's a F-ing saint. And here you are, killing her."

"You know what Percy would say about your little tantrum here?" The calmer man tries to change the subject.

"Don't threaten to rat me out for this, we both know you're bluffing. You're not telling Percy."

"I didn't kill her, Roan did the beating, not me and not on my orders. I agree with you that he went overboard, and I will documented it in his file."

"You are just as guilty if you let her die on this couch." Birkhoff spat out the words so fast Lena hardly understood them. She waited for the calm man to respond to him. The response didn't come. He didn't have an answer.

After a moment Birkhoff spoke again. "Is there a kill order on her?"

Another long silent moment passes between the two men before Birkhoff spoke again. "Then tell me, Michael, why we are carrying out a hit?"

**Thanks for reading, please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

About two years earlier...

Lena's life had been a whirlwind. She lived in a constant state of exhausting motion. Just last week she'd flown to Jamaica, St. Lucia, and Grand Cayman, then back to her home base of New York, all in time to make her Friday night waitressing shift at the Rare Grill. Now it was late Sunday night and she sat at an all night coffee shop poured over a laptop trying to finish her work. All around her the other customers were chatting with their friends but Lena was completely ignoring the man who sat opposite of her at the table. Luke was used to it, he would have done the same if it was he who had been behind schedule.

Ever since she had been officially promoted to field agent two months ago she'd been busier than any 21 year old should be. Although, Lena would never describe herself as naïve, she _had _naively thought that once she was promoted to agent her life would fall into some kind of routine. She couldn't have been more wrong. She was still required to attend martial arts training three times a week, continue with her Arabic and Korean tutors, and attend a weekly weapons and explosives tutorial all as part of her "continuing education." But she wasn't slumped over her laptop working on homework for any of these classes tonight. This evening she was working on the latest update for Jeffry's security system for a South African diamond client.

Jeffry was the only father Lena clearly remembered. To the outside world Jeffry and his wife Charlotte appeared to be a normal couple. Jeffry was a man in his mid fifties, who went to work each day at nine in the morning and returned at dinner time. He was successful and the family appeared well off, though the neighbors were never quite sure what Jeffry did for a living. Something with computers they would guess. Charlotte looked the part of a trophy wife as she was at least fifteen years Jeffry's junior. She worked from home part time for an insurance company. The couple always kept to themselves but were friendly when the neighbors met them on the sidewalk. Charlotte and Jeffry had one daughter, a girl named Lena who attended a boarding school.

The truth about Jeffry, Charlotte, and their daughter Lena was quite different from how any of their neighbors would describe them. Lena for starters had only played the part of their daughter since she was ten.

Jeffry and Charlotte offered her very few explanations of her life before them. Lena had few, if any, memories of her previous family. She didn't own a photograph, and the only tangible objects she had to remind herself that she had a birth family were a set of house keys with a ratty White Sox key chain attached and a ticket stub to the Shedd aquarium from 1997. She stopped trying to remember this family years ago, she knew it was easier to forget. Lately thoughts of her previous family had been creeping into her day dreams. She wondered what life would have been like with them. She went through periods of fantasies about her family, they came and went, but she knew her family was gone, dead, and no amount of hope, prayers, or daydreaming fantasies could bring them back.

Although they were not her birth parents Jeffry and Charlotte had treated her with kindness, respect, and love, but they didn't raise her as an adopted daughter. They raised her to be an Alliance spy first and foremost and a security consultant for Jeffry's private business on the side. Instead of elementary school she attended schools that taught much more than basic reading, writing, and arithmetic. What the neighbors believed were boarding schools were actually training facilities. Lena remembered being an exceptional student. She'd always been smart and excelled in the academic portions of the curiculum. Tactically she was superior to many of the other trainees. She was placed on the track to become an agent when she was fourteen. The only thing she had ever remembered being reprimanded for was the occasional attitude adjustment and those demerits were never too severe.

She finished the updates to the encryption key and closed the window on her laptop. She gazed at her watch, she was one of the only people in the world who still wore a watch, Jeffry and Charlotte's plane from Amsterdam had arrived almost two hours ago. They would be settled in the hotel by now.

"Finished?" Luke asked putting his own iphone down.

Lena nodded "Sorry, I wasn't much company tonight."

"Its alright I needed to get out of that apartment Mark's driving me insane."

Lena smiled; Luke was one of her oldest friends. He worked for the Alliance too, he worked as a counterfeiter. Being a counterfeiter allowed him to do almost all of his work in New York and much of it from the apartment. Because he was around so much he was always the first to get annoyed with the new roommates. In addition to Luke and Mark, Lena lived with another woman, Rose. Rose was trained as a medic and was now in medical school at Mount Sinai Medical School. In a few years Rose would be called upon to stitch up the spys, thugs, mafia, and lowlifes of the world.

"Want to go get a drink?" Luke asked

"Nah, I shouldn't Jeffry wants to see the spec's tomorrow at breakfast." She replied

"Come on one drink? Its only midnight, that's plenty of time."

"It's never one drink with you. Another time,"

"Is Rose working tonight?"

"Yep,"

"Dam. I guess I'm on my own then. I really thought you'd come along once you were done."

"Sorry, I'm lame I guess."

"Yea Lena, you're the most boring person I know." He joked then stood up from the table. "Shall I walk you home my dear?"

Lena stashed her laptop in a bag and rolled her eyes at Luke. "I think I'll be alright."

Outside the coffee shop Luke planted a quick peck on Lena's cheek. "You coming home tonight?" She questioned.

"God, I hope not!" He answered with a bright smile across his face. "but if I need bail I'm calling you!" He walked off in the opposite direction.

Lena walked the three blocks back to their apartment and took the elevator to the ninth floor. Their apartment was a simple three bedroom appartment, too small to comfortably house four people but huge by New York standards. The place was quiet tonight. Mark was either asleep or in his own room. She went to the bedroom she shared with Rose. It was the largest bedroom in the appartment and it had an attached bathroom that the women didn't need to share with the men. She slid the laptop bag under her dresser and slipped her thumb drive under a loose floor board. Some of the classic hiding places were still the best in her opinion.

She woke the next morning to find Luke asleep on the couch. She'd heard him come in a couple hours earlier but had managed to fall back asleep after she heard him deadbolt the door and realarm the apartment's security system. One of the curses of her job was that she was an incredibly light sleeper.

She made her way to a hotel about 5 blocks from her apartment, spoke briefly to the front desk attendant and slipped up to her parent's suite.

"My Lena!" Charlotte gasped as she opened the door. "Oh, I've missed you!" she said excitedly as she pulled her into a hug.

"Hi, Mum." Lena answered

"Hello Sweetheart," Jeffry greeted her with more controlled excitement than Charlotte had, but he still pulled her into a strong one armed hug careful not to spill the coffee in his other hand.

"You look wonderful!" her mother exclaimed eying her dress up and down. "Is the dress new?"

"Yea," She answered dropping her bag lightly on the sofa. "But don't gush it's just from the Gap."

"I have nothing against the Gap," Charlotte answered. "And if they can get you into a dress then maybe we should shop there more often."

Lena rolled her eyes, her affinity for casual clothing drove her mother crazy. Lena was happiest in the fall when she could throw on jeans, knee high boots, and her favorite North Face or leather jacket and call it a day. Charlotte hardly ever wore an outfit more than two times and only owned one pair of jeans. Lena had made her mother buy those jeans before a trip to Breckenridge where Lena insisted it was not appropriate to wear a dress around town in the middle of January.

"Is that the Burberry bag I bought you?" Charlotte's eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the bag.

"What?" Lena asked exasperated, it was too soon for her mother to start criticizing.

"Well dear its really more of a vacation or beach bag. Maybe if you were going up to the Hamptons or Cape Cod. It's not really a city bag."

"Alright, One, I don't go up to the Hamptons or Cape Cod and two, it fits my laptop and that's what I needed today."

"I don't think the designer ever envisioned that bag as a laptop bag, dear."

"Charlotte, lay off the girl." Jeffry finally said, not wanting his ladies to get in an argument. "Let's have breakfast then we can get some work done."

Lena spent the rest of her day finalizing the updates to the South African security system with Jeffry. He was pleased with her work but always had some suggestions of his own. The key to Jeffry's security systems was that they were always customized. While there were patterns and similarities between all the systems each held unique attributes which made them extremely difficult to compromise. Lena alone was privy to all the configurations and she spent hours going over and over plans, attempting to find the weaknesses. Every system had a fragile point. Lena's job was to determine if it was possible to exploit that weakness. By dinner time Jeffry was satisfied and began making plans for them to fly to South Africa on Thursday.

"We should go." Charlotte said "Our reservations are in twenty minutes."

As three set out from the hotel room Jeffry's phone rang. "I need to take this, I'll meet you at the restaurant." He said glancing at the caller id.

They had a pleasant dinner, just the four of them, Lena, Charlotte, Luke, and Rose. Jeffry never joined them. When Charlotte and Lena returned to the hotel Jeffry was frantically packing a bag.

"Where's the fire?" Lena asked

"Chicago." Jeffry answered shortly. "Our system's being hacked. The leak is slow but its sophisticated and I can't fix it from here."

Lena sat down on the bed. "Maybe I'll stay here tonight. It's a lot nicer than my apartment." She was used to Jeffry dropping everything and jetting off to one of his clients in their hour of need.

"I'd like that." Answered Charlotte

"No, she's coming with me." Jeffry said as he finished zipping his carryon bag and turned to pack his laptop.

"To Chicago?" Lena questioned.

"Jeffry! A word." Charlotte snapped suddenly very firm as she beckoned him to the adjoining room. Jeffry slouched but knew better than to argue with her. Charlotte shut the door behind her and immediately turned on the TV in the next room to drown out their voices.

Lena had never been allowed to go to Chicago on work and she was fairly certain that if she bought a plane ticket on her own to Chicago she would be in trouble with the Alliance. Jeffry had never allowed her to work closely with this client. She'd helped design the latest system, updated 7 months ago, and she was familiar with the organization of the company and the building where they would be working but she'd always been on a "need to know" basis with this company.

After a few minutes her parents reappeared, both looking visibly distraught. Charlotte looked enraged but she stayed silent.

There was no explanation, "Let's go." Jeffry said as he scooped up his laptop bag and carry on. "You need to pack quickly."

A short time later she was unlocking the door to her apartment and leading her parents inside. She slipped into her bedroom to pack closely followed by her mother. Lena started to pack a carry-on bag and her mother sat down on the edge of her bed.

"Lena, do you trust me?" She asked, it was the first sentence she had spoken to her since her talk with Jeffry at the hotel.

"Of course I do. Can you get me an ID?"

"If you have any questions; I want you to come to me. Promise me you will come to me." Her mother walked across the room as she spoke, opened the top drawer of her desk, slid her hand under the drawer and removed an envelope.

"What are you talking about mom? The new ID is in the bottom drawer."

"I want you to know you can trust me. Whatever you say to me, won't go to the Alliance, or anyone else."

"I know that." Lena replied as she took the envelope from her mother and dumped the contents on the bed. She removed all the cards from her wallet and replaced them with the papers from the envelope. Her drivers license, credit cards, insurance information, and starbucks card, were all replaced with information of another fictional alias.

"My loyalty is to my husband and to you. Above any organization."

"Mom, is there something you need to tell me?"

"I love you Lena, have a good trip." She stood up and kissed Lena on the forehead just as Jeffry opened the door.

"Are you ready?"

**Explanations for those not familiar with the setting of my story: The White Sox are one of two baseball teams in Chicago (the other is the Cubs), and the Shedd Aquarium is a large aquarium in Chicago right on Lake Michigan and is a popular tourist spot. Breckenridge one of my favorite ski resorts in Colorado, casual dress is the norm. I know Burberry isn't the type of bag designer to do a beach bag, but they had a really beautiful bag for summer one year and I saw it featured in a bunch of Magazines. Kinda wish I had that bag, but its worth about as much as my car so that's not exactly a possibility. **

**Yes, I know I borrowed the name of the espionage organization (the Alliance) from the TV show Alias, sorry, I am just not that creative. No, this is not a crossover, I only borrowed the name because I'm lazy. **


	3. Chapter 3

**I am still pleasantly surprised every time I see the amount of people looking at this story. Keep the reviews, both positive and constructive, coming! Thanks for taking the time to read and I hope you enjoy the story!**

This was the first time Lena had come to see this client at their home base. She'd met a representative of the company once, but the man had come to meet them in New York. She was familiar with the building layout and the security system because she had studied the blueprints and system design for a periodic review. Although Lena had never been to see this client in person, Jeffry came to Chicago frequently. This had been a client that Jeffry was keeping to himself. Originally she'd thought he was just fond of this client, something made this client untouchable or unique and therefore they got special treatment. But now that she was here, she'd come to the conclusion that it wasn't the client that made this contract unique, it was the place. He had been trying to keep Lena safely away from Chicago.

They had been called to manage a leak in the security system. It was clear to both Jeffry and Lena that the client was being pursued by a very sophisticated hacker. Lena was more than a little impressed. Jeffry's system was state of the art and highly monitored which meant that whoever was doing this damage was a gifted professional. Jeffry was not impressed; he was on a crusade to find the source.

For the first time in the trip Jeffry was leaving her alone. He'd had a watchful eye on her every move since they'd gotten off the plane. He had asked her how she was doing so many times that she'd felt an intense need to toss him from a moving vehicle. She'd told him she was fine over and over but the truth was, she'd been in the city for less than six hours and already she was anxious.

With Jeffry consumed in his work she was free of his constant gaze. She opened her laptop and began searching anything that came to mind. Being physically in the only city she could prove she had visited as a child, made what had been frequent daydreams intensify into an obsession. She knew she should leave it alone but she couldn't. She started with the only thing she knew, she'd been to the Shedd Aquarium. Searching the Shedd Aquarium hadn't helped her in her quest for evidence. There were hundreds of thousands of visitors every year and the pictures online didn't look familiar. She clicked through page after page of Chicago landmarks, schools, churches, and stores. This parade of webpages had led her to the city of Evanston. She didn't know anything about Evanston but something about that word just sounded right.

She paged through pictures of buildings in Evanston. Although nothing grabbed her attention specifically, the buildings didn't seem foreign to her. After about fifteen minutes of scanning through websites she decided, Evanston simply had to be a part of her past.

A list of notable residents sparked her interest and she found herself scrolling through the names in one of the cemeteries in town hoping a name would look familiar. Lena didn't remember a name so she found herself paging through the 3,000 names listed online hoping to find some solid clue to her past.

One name caused her entire body to lock. She couldn't have torn her eyes away from the screen if she tried. She felt her stomach lurch, like it did on a flight with unexpected turbulence, and her breath caught deep in her chest.

"Samuelle, Claire Marie, March 10, 1987- February 15, 1997

"Oh, God."

To Lena the world stopped. The tech crew continued to shuffle around her chair but she couldn't hear them. Her eyes traced the letters on the screen over and over. She had forgotten. How could you possibly forget your own name? She forced her eyes to glance down the page, the next three entries sounded familiar. Her father, mother, and brother were all listed below her name alphabetically. Her stomach lurched violently and her head began to swim. Her chest heaved as she gasped for the breath she couldn't find. She slammed the laptop shut and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and grasping her face in her hands.

She had assumed they were gone, the memories of her family. She had assumed that she was just too young to clearly remember them; but seeing her name felt so real; she simply _knew_ that was her family. She also _knew_, without a shadow of a doubt that there were memories of her family buried deep in her mind.

As if she'd cued up a movie, a scene played out before her eyes. The memory was silent but she could see it clearly. Her father was driving through a snow storm; her mother was in the passenger seat. She couldn't see their faces from the back seat of the minivan, just the backs of their heads. Her father had short brown hair poking out from under a winter hat. Her mother also had brown hair which sat in perfect curls that fell to her shoulders. Lena was seated in the backseat of the car. Without warning the van veered to the right skidding on some ice or snow, she saw her mother's hand go out to grasp the dashboard and her father fight the steering wheel desperately attempting to correct the car. Everything went black and she heard the distinct sound of metal crashing against metal.

"Lena?" Somehow Jeffry's voice pierced through her panic. She hadn't noticed him come over. He was crouched squarely in front of her chair. His voice was calm and even as he repeated her name. "Lena, take a couple deep breaths. Look at me. Follow my lead." He drew in a series long breaths which she half heartedly attempted to match with her own short bursts of air. "It was too soon, I shouldn't have brought you here. I'm sorry." She opened her mouth to speak but she didn't have any air. She gasped and tried again

"Too soon?" she wheezed

"Let me finish this job and we'll l talk this through alright?"

"You'll tell the truth?" She asked

Jeffry paused. His eyes scanned her face, she saw him swallow once before answering "Yes." He answered. She nodded once and he stood up, squeezed her shoulder slightly and returned to his computer station.

She sat up straight in her chair. She needed to think about every breath to keep them as even as possible. She glanced around the room. She wasn't needed here, especially not like this, and she didn't want an audience to her panic attack or any subsequent panic attacks.

"Bathroom." She whispered to the four technicians who stood around her staring as if it had been them who just witnessed a car crash. She stood shakily and grabbed her bag off the floor and left the room. When she found the bathroom she locked the door from the inside and collapsed against it.

_Claire?_ She repeated over and over to herself. It was unfamiliar and yet somehow it seemed to fit. How could she forget a prior life so completely? She wracked her brain willing some other memory to come forward but every time she shut her eyes the short scene of the car crash replayed in her mind. She allowed her mind to perseverate on the vision, each time the scene repeated her panic subsided. Playing it repeatedly diminshed the power of the scene. She took in the details of the scene, it was so vivid. Her mother was wearing a red wool coat and scarf, her dad had a simple black ski coat. She was wearing a blue jacket and had a pink hardcover book and CD player were laying on her lap. She was wearing blue boots that matched her jacket almost perfectly. The van was clean and well kept, the floor was clear except for a rolled up posterboard probably left over from a school project. She tried to remember her mother's voice, or her father's but all she heard was the sound of metal striking metal. She rested on the floor of the bathroom, her legs felt like she had just finished a marathon and her heart was still beating so loudly she was sure it was audible in the room.

After what must have been nearly an hour she dragged herself off the bathroom floor and gazed up into the mirror. She shook her head in disgust at the face that she saw. This morning her long brown hair had been perfectly styled into flowing curls but now it looked more like she had just finished working out. She slipped it up into a simple pony tail. The only clues that she had put on make-up this morning were the tracks of mascara running down her face. She pulled her makeup bag from her purse, got a paper towel from the dispenser and rubbed all the make-up off to start over from scratch.

As she snapped the eye shadow container closed she heard her cell phone buzz. She dug through the entire contents of her purse before she found it.

"Lena?" Jeffry's voice was serious and business like. "I have four unidentified armed individuals in the building."

"Shit." She snapped as her previous thoughts were whipped from her dug into her purse for her gun, holster, and blue tooth.

"What are you getting on your scanner?"

"Nothing, I didn't have it on." She heard him click his tongue impatiently, "I'm working on it chill. Where are they?"

"North and West stairwell, I've got at least four confirmed. They have tech support and they're looping the feed faster than I can correct it."

"Alright I'm on my way."

"No, I locked down this room. Stay where you are."

She found her Bluetooth and slipped it over her ear. Lena's favorite and most envied piece of technical equipment was her adapted Bluetooth device. She designed it with two transmissions specialists from the Alliance, it wasn't foolproof and it shocked her ear frequently but when it was at its best it could pick up communications from other radio transmission devices, even those that were encrypted. She dismissed the various radio frequencies listened for a second to the maintenance department, her father's security channel and finally stopped on an unknown frequency.

"I can't get a lock!" she told her father who was still on the phone. As soon as she got the words out she heard the transmission she was looking for.

"Target is in his office on the twenty-seventh floor, confirm locations." She listened as two teams radioed in their locations each in a separate stairwell.

"What's on the twenty seventh-floor?" Lena asked her father.

"Board of directors offices."

"One of them is the target. Who's in today?" She slipped her arms through her shoulder holster and tossed her blazer over. She pulled a knife from her bag and secured it inside her boot.

"Richard Lewis is the only one in today."

"His office is armored, lock it down and I'll take care of the intruders." Lena instructed, Lewis was the man who had hired her father to build the security system. He wanted an independent contractor and had requested one of the most complicated systems Jeffry had ever put together. Not only did he request a sophisticated technological system but he also required some hardware that was unique to a business office in downtown Chicago. Upon entering his office you would pass through a solid wood door containing two separate deadbolt locks. This door led only to the assistant's office. A solid steel door stood, disguised behind a thin wood outer layer, stood between the assistant and the board member's offices. This door was controlled by a network computer located on the secretary's office phone. She could open and close the door at will. If an intruder was capable of accessing these controls they could open the door and gain access to the director. This turned out to be one of the "weak points" Lena had identified in Jeffry's system. To remediate the threat she had added a separate video surveillance system that provided an eye to the assistant's office and a kill switch both located inside of the board member's office which severed all connection to the network and locked the door until it was released from the inside.

"No, I tried that, my end is compromised, you'll need to do it manually. "

Lena unlocked the bathroom door and sprinted toward the south stairwell. If she hurried she could make it there before the agents. She was on the twenty-second floor, but the other men were only on the eighth floor when they radioed in, she would have a little time. She would enter the office, have the assistant open the door, get herself and the assistant into the secured office and manually sever the connection turning the room into a safehouse. She listened to her Bluetooth as she ran up the stairs. The man on the radio was asking for locations again but this time on a different channel.

"Roan, what's your twenty?"

"Waiting for the elevator."

"Confirmed." She heard her headset click to another channel as it followed the transmission.

" Michael? Location?"

An irritated growling voice answered the first man. "Still in position Birkhoff, same as two minutes ago." Her shins slammed into the stairs as she caught her boot on one of the steps. She tried to catch herself with her hands but scraped both her wrists in the process. She pulled herself off the stairs as quick as she could and limped up the final flight. She always amazed herself with as much training as she had, her clumsy nature still had a habit of shining through.

"Did you just fall on the stairs?"She heard in her ear. A smile could be heard in his voice. The camera in the corner of this stairwell was clearly not on a loop. "That's a fantastic way to shoot yourself." Jeffry teased.

"Shut up." She hissed as she slid her ID badge through the card reader and yanked the door open to floor. "And shut down the elevators there are more men downstairs."

"Done," he answered "You're going to lose communications inside the office. Just get yourselves into the secured room and wait there. I'll take care of the teams on my end."

She carefully walked down the hallway of the office building, she moved slowly with a hand over her gun knowing there was one more intruder that was unaccounted for. She hated to go slow because she knew the teams were close behind her but she couldn't risk being ambushed by an agent already on the floor. Cautiously peering around each corner she made her way to Mr. Lewis's office.

"I need to see Mr. Lewis. Now!" Lena snapped at the assistant. Lena's eyes swept the room from right to left. The desk was lavish for an assistant desk, a bright cherry finish accented all the furniture in the room. Her desk was clear except for a phone, computer monitor, coffee cup and one small picture frame. The solid wood floor was perfectly polished and covered with an expensive area rug.

"Do you have an appointment?" She asked.

"I'm from LRS Security , we've had a breach. This isn't a drill" She held out her security badge for the woman with one hand and kept her other on the gun. She poked her head out into the hallway to look for the intruders as the assistant studied her badge.

"We've reached the Twenty Seventh Floor" one of the teams announced in Lena's ear bud.

"Roger. Confirm when target is down." The voice on the other end of the radio answered.

Lena spun around and shut the door to the assistant's office behind her. "You need to open that office door." She hissed to the assistant who was now standing frozen behind her desk. "Now!" Lena commanded, the woman startled out of her trance and reached for the office phone. "Not the phone, the phones are down. Override it." Lena tried to keep her words calmer than she felt. The woman moved cautiously toward the file drawers next to the door and began to type on a keyboard hidden in one of the drawers.

Listening next to the door Lena heard the faint but distinct sound of the door to the stairwell opening. She positioned herself along the wall to the left of the door. "Get that door open." She hissed again.

"Stand back." She heard a man say from the other side of the door, no doubt speaking to his partner, and Lena braced herself for a fight. A second later the men behind the door forced it open breaking the door jam. A gun appeared through the doorway first, and Lena immediately kicked the gun loose from the man's hands and threw a well placed punch breaking the man's nose. Her knee connected with the man's stomach causing him to crumble over as she bashed him over the head with her own gun knocking him to the floor. The agent's partner wasted no time in releasing three rounds of his own, narrowly missing the assistant. The bullets soared across the office thudding into the wall and sending glass flying as a stray bullet hit the assistant's coffee cup. Lena pulled her own gun and released two rounds into the man's shoulder causing him to drop his gun. As he crouched near the floor she turned and roundhouse kicked him, knocking him out cold. She picked up the spare gun and pistol whipped the first fighter knocking him out next to his partner.

She skimmed the now unconscious fighters for extra weapons. She tossed another gun to the assistant now frozen in a crouch behind her desk. "We still need that door open." Lena reminded the woman. She crossed the office and pulled her out from under the desk. She stood unsteadily and Lena wasn't certain the assistant's legs would support her. Her nails dug into Lena's shoulder as she dragged her back to the file drawer. "There are more coming, _please,_ get it open."

Lena left the woman at the file cabinet and focused on the four remaining agents located throughout the building. They were still exposed and vulnerable. She found zip ties in one of the men's pockets and quickly bound their hands and feet in case they woke up. She heard another stairwell door open, this time closer, she knew the other team had arrived on scene. The metallic snap signaled the lock release from the secured door behind her, but it was too late. The second team burst through the door with their guns drawn.

Lena met the man and woman team with the same quick perfectly placed hits that she had learned in her years of training. The second team was younger and their lack of training was evident. They were the back-up team, they weren't the ones who were slated to carry out the hit. It was only a matter of seconds before she had both agents on the ground. She slammed the man's head into the file cabinet and shot the woman before knocking them each out. She bound last two fighters with the zip ties and paused for a half second to catch her breath.

"Come on!" She heard the assistant yell as she opened the door wide so Lena could run through. Lena saw the terrified face of the board member standing frozen at his desk. She caught her breath and dragged herself up off the floor to go into the office. The assistant disappeared behind the door.

_That's over._ She thought for a split second before she heard the sound of a gun with a silencer discharge and a bullet hiss past her ear. She saw the man at the desk in front of her crumble. From the sound of the gun she knew the shooter was directly behind her, only a few feet. Without looking she spun around with a strong kick and knocked the man's gun from his hand before he fired another shot. She heard the security door click shut behind her as she began to fight the new intruder.

This man was skilled, he was a much stronger fighter than the other four and Lena immediately felt she was on the defense. She landed one good punch that split his lip open, but his hits were fast, perfect, and deadly. She blocked a barrage of deadly hits before he landed a solid jab knocking her against the security door. The split second she took to catch herself against the door was too long, the next fist hit her below the eye knocking her head violently against the solid steel door. The impact left her disoriented for just a second or two but that was all the time he needed. He caught her before she hit the ground and fastened his strong muscular forearm tightly against her neck. She elbowed him in the gut, dug her nails into his arm, and stomped on the arch of his foot but hard as she fought his hold only seemed to grow stronger. Her vision blotched over like a blizzard.

She didn't feel him release her and she didn't feel her body hit the hard wood floor. She didn't see his gaze linger for just a moment on her motionless form before turning to cut the bonds on the other, still unconscious, fighters.

"Target's down." His gravely voice spoke clearly into the communicator. He wiped away the trickle of blood from his lower lip."Birkhoff do you read me? Birkhoff?" He paced across the room before attempting to contact again. "Roan are _you _reading me?" Again he did not get an answer. He glanced at the reinforced door that Lena was laying against and guessed there was interference from the reinforced room next to him. He stepped out of the room and walked a few feet down the hall to radio.

"Birkhoff do you read me?"

"Loud and clear Michael. What's your status?" Birkhoff answered

"Target's down. Send the video on to Percy and Amanda, I have a complication."

**Thanks for reading! Please leave me a review or message to let me know what you thought. I really appreciate every comment. **

**I'm not sure when the next update will be up. In the next two weeks I'm moving and starting a new internship, so free time to write will be minimal but I'll get something posted as soon as I can. **


	4. Chapter 4

Lena woke up violently gasping for breath. A sharp pain coursed through her arm as she tried to push herself up from the hard wood floor. She blinked several times trying to clear her vision and regain some composure but it was in vain, the room was cloudy around her and she was terribly dizzy. A hand fastened around her bicep like a vice and dragged her up from the floor. A man with a long drawn face , salt and pepper hair, and piercing gray eyes shielded behind thin framed glasses, filled her field of vision. There are some people you just know are evil, you don't need any evidence, an intuition tells you that this person is capable of the very worst things in the world. Lena had experience with evil people, and when this particular feeling ran up her spine she knew not to ignore it. She instinctually stepped back and away from him but his tight grip on her arm held her in place. She didn't want to shift her gaze away from the man with the glasses, she knew she needed to be keenly aware of him but a hand clasped around her free wrist, distracting her, and she whipped her head around to find the new captor. The man who had fought was fastening a handcuff tightly around her wrist.

"If you make an attempt to escape, or an accomplice attempts an ill-conceived rescue mission, he'll put a bullet in your head" He said, his voice void of all emotion. He reached out and locked her other wrist into the cuff as he spoke. His eyes were resolute and sober, but they were not menacing like the man with the glasses.

_Michael. _She thought as she put the name with the voice she had heard on the radio earlier. _Michael, the team leader, he called the shots, he was the one who had brutally fought her, and won. _

She thought about the words he had said, 'he'll put a bullet in your head', Lena had no doubt that was exactly what the man with the glasses would do if she attempted to cross him. After a few moments the other fighters had been roused and she was dragged out of the office door toward the elevators. An empty elevator appeared and the entire team piled inside. No one pressed a button but the elevator moved anyway. The technical support had over ridden the controls. The injured team members groaned loudly as the others began to tend to their wounds. One of the men was as white as a sheet and was bleeding profusely from where she had shot him. A female agent tended to the wound while Michael placed the agent's arm securely around his own shoulders to support him. The doors of the elevator opened to the parking level where two vans stood waiting. Lena was shuffled toward the lead van while Michael directed the other agents toward the second van. The man with the glasses pushed her into the seat next to him. Lena noticed that Michael took the driver's seat and a third man, already in the van, dug through the glove box.

What did they want from her? She wondered. If they needed her dead it would have served them better to simply kill her upstairs with the board member. It was too early to know their aim. She decided to stay silent.

"What are you looking for?" Michael sharply questioned the man in the passenger seat.

"Something to use as a blindfold." he answered nervously.

She heard Michael scoff, "We won't be needing a blindfold."

She out of the corner of her eye she saw the butt of the gun coming toward her, but she didn't have any way to retaliate. The man with the glasses hit her hard, knocking her into the window where she lay still.

"Wake up, we have a plane to catch." She heard Michael's voice call as she felt two light slaps on her cheek.

"Where are we going?" she asked before she remembered she was trying to be silent. Internally she chastised herself for speaking, in her mind it took away the little control she had over her situation. Michael's eyes stared through her, he didn't react to her statement, in fact he didn't even acknowledge she'd spoken.

"You need to move." He responded after a few seconds of silence.

She allowed him to pull her from the van. She was still in handcuffs and within an earshot of the other agents so she knew there was little chance for escape. He escorted her toward a small private jet. Just as they reached the stairs to the plane the man with the glasses appeared in the doorway and handed a phone to Michael. Michael read a text message on the phone and sighed. "I'll oversee the transfer" he said to the man at the top of the stairs. He drew Lena away from the steps as a black town car pulled into the hanger behind them.

A balding middle age man in a plain black suit emerged from the car followed closely by an assistant. "I'm Special Agent Forester, I believe you've been informed of the prisoner transfer." The man flashed his wallet as identification to Michael. Michael nodded slightly as the assistant stepped forward and locked a new set of handcuffs on Lena's wrists. Once they were secure Michael unlocked his set and slid them safely inside his jacket pocket. "I'll take it from here. Have a safe flight Agent." The Agent Forester said to Michael. She found herself being shuffled toward another private jet in the hanger, a jet she hadn't even noticed prior to this new _Agent Forester's _arrival. She boarded the plane and was guided toward an open seat near the cockpit. She was distrustful of the sudden transfer but she continued her stoic silence, she had nothing to say to her captors.

She watched out the small window as Michael boarded the jet next to her plane. The door closed and a few moments later Michael's jet exited the hanger. As quickly as they had appeared they were gone.

"This is for you." Agent Foster appeared from the other private compartment in the plane and held out a cell phone.

She was confused, who would be calling for her? He tossed her the phone, which landed in her lap, and returned to his compartment. Against her better judgment she pressed the phone to her ear.

"Lena," Jeffry's immensely relieved voice rang in her ear. "Are you alright?"

"Dad?" Lena whispered, it hurt to talk.

"Yea sweetheart, its me. It's not a trick." He sighed into the phone. "The man your with now, he's a friend of mine, you can trust him. Now are you hurt? Do you need medical attention."

"No, I think I'm okay." She whispered, one hand rubbed her painful throat.

"Ok Lena I'm on my way. It's going to take me about a half hour to get there."

Lena nodded, then remembered she was on the phone. "Yea, ok." She answered then hung up the phone.

She sighed out loud, and relaxed a fraction in the plush seat of the private plane. Hearing Jeffry say everything was alright was somewhat comforting and she felt like she was free of any immediate danger. With the easing of her current situation she let her mind wander back slightly to the day's events. Today wasn't the first time she'd been caught. She had been captured four months ago on a mission in China, but that day there had been back-up team and an enemy who wanted her information more than her life. Today she didn't know what the motivation had been for the kidnapping. If they wanted her dead why didn't they just kill her? If they wanted information why didn't they ever ask? They never asked who she was, they never wanted a name or an allegiance. Something about not being asked the routine questions alarmed her.

Forester stepped back into her section. He held out the key to the handcuffs. "You are free to go or you can wait for your father here." He sat down at the chair opposite of her, opened a first aid kit, and handed her an ice pack.

"Thank You." She whispered as she took it and held it to her throbbing throat.

"I was thinking…" he trailed off while pointed to his eye, "But whatever hurts."

"So you're Alliance?" Lena asked softly

"No." It was a rejection but it hadn't been a rejection of the conversation, she was free to ask another question.

"Freelance?"

"From time to time." He smiled slightly, then the smile was gone "but not as a general rule."

"Interpol?"

"Again, from time to time."

"So your primary allegiance is to whom?" She asked, not expecting an answer.

"CIA."He answered matter of factly. Lena stared blankly at the man, whatever ease she had felt was suddenly gone and all her senses were on high alert. What CIA agent would give up his cover so easily to a known Alliance operative, none. But if he actually was CIA she was in trouble.

"Of course you are." She answered sarcastically, "Me too." She stood up to leave the plane. He had said she was free to go and now she was sure she wanted to leave. Whatever confidence Jeffry had in him was misplaced.

"No, you aren't now, but your father thinks someday you'll come around." His voice was annoyingly calm. She pushed on the door to the plane, it was locked.

"You said I was free to go." She shot back as fiercely as her bruised larynx would allow.

"That was before I told you who I work for, now, since you asked, we need to finish the conversation." He said coolly. "Please," he gestured toward the chair she had been occupying.

She stood at the door for a moment, trying to come up with a way out. She pushed again at the door to the plane but it held solid. Finally she relented and returned to the chair. She debated what tone she should take with him, calm and composed would be the more mature choice, but she had an urge to take more of a sarcastic teenager role. "So you want me to come work for you at the _CIA?" _She questioned with sarcasm rooted deep in her statement.

"I think our goals are closely aligned and I believe it would be mutually beneficial."

"Prove it. Prove to me you are CIA and not an Alliance imposter." He handed her his ID card and badge. "I have a dozen contacts who can make these, you're going to have to do better than an ID card."

"I can take you to Langley." He answered instantly "With one word to the Pilot we can fly to Virginia and I'll walk you through the front doors; but for the assignment I have in mind, I believe its better if we don't do that."

Lena paused for a moment, how could she make him prove himself. She thought vaguely of asking to speak to some high ranking official in the government, but she didn't know who she could ask to speak with. Could she recognize a voice of anyone in the U.S. government? Not with enough confidence to bet her life on it.

"Fine, I want to talk to Damon Fritz. He's in CIA custody. If you're CIA you can get him on the phone."

"Fritz, the man who named you Alliance and put you on the NSA wanted lists?"

"Yes." She was sure they couldn't fake his voice. Damon was an Alliance operative who was captured three months ago and taken into CIA custody. Lena had trained with him and had known him for years; his voice was one she could recognize with complete confidence.

"I can't promise you anything but I'll make a few calls and be back." He took his phone off the seat and returned to the back of the plane.

After only few minutes he returned and handed her the cell phone again. "I'm monitoring this call, you have 30 seconds."

"Damon?"

"Who is this?" a frightened Damon answered on the other end. She had no doubt it was him she'd know his voice anywhere. She stared up at the agent in front of her in shock. He really was CIA, and he had her in custody, and he knew her father? "Seriously, who is this?" Damon cursed into the phone.

"You're a selfish little prat for naming me." She snapped. "Now I have the CIA breathing down my neck and its entirely your fault!"

"LENA! Well shit, I'm sorry I've been in solitary for the last month and I'm facing terrorist charges, so the fact they're letting you have phone calls tells me the shit storm you're in is a whole lot more tolerable than mine! Screw you Lena."

She ended the call. "Thank you, Agent Forester." She said calmly. Perhaps she would need to cooperate with him. He nodded and took the phone.

"That wasn't a very friendly conversation for two people who trained together."

"No, he hates me but you proved your point." She said. "You mentioned mutually beneficial, how would this situation benefit me?" She knew she was about to be used for this man's benefit, for the CIA's benefit, and it was exceedingly unlikely it would benefit her in the least.

"In a variety of ways, not least of which would be the fact that I can get you off of the National Security Agency's Wanted lists."

"I'm not a terrorist." She whispered as her stomach turned. She knew in her line of work it was inevitable, she would be labeled as a terrorist, but she thought this would happen years down the road. Lena had never imagined she'd be on a terrorist wanted list only months into her career as an intelligence officer.

"I know that." He answered "You're an orphan kid from Chicago who was sold into an international intelligence organization who raised you to be a spy. You had very little choice in the matter, until now."

"How did you know that?" she questioned, genuinely curious for a split second.

"I know a lot more about you, Ms. Ross, or should I say Ms. Samuelle, than you know about yourself."

"That's not difficult. I don't know anything, really." She answered dismissively.

"Well the CIA knows a bit more than you do. If you join us, you will have access to the majority of that information." He stopped, Lena could sense he was ready to offer more so she waited before speaking. "The assignment I have in mind for you would be, in part, investigating your parent's deaths."

Lena pondered the offer for a few moments in silence. There was so much about the offer that was unappealing. His offer wasn't mind blowing or earth shattering, in fact she didn't even know why her parent's deaths would be of suspicion. They died in a car crash, she was there, that was the only thing she was sure of when it came to her past. As much as she wanted to say 'no' to the man, she knew she had to consider his offer. The CIA wasn't in the business of allowing identified terrorists to turn down what amounted to a plea deal, walk of the plane and return to her everyday life. "So that's the big CIA offer huh, The most powerful intelligence gathering organization in the world and all I get is a 'we'll tell you who you are and take you off of our own Governments list.' I kinda expected better." She spit " There should be some enormous conspiracy, a new identity, a top secret government cover-up or at least train me to be James Bond, Jason Borne or Sidney Bristow…."

"Turn you into a fictional character." He shook his head, obviously realizing suddenly that he was dealing with a twenty year old girl. "Lena Ross _is_ a fictional character. Claire Samuelle is an American citizen who has been playing the part of Lena Ross for the past ten years. Lena Ross is an alias; nothing more. Haven't you already had enough fiction in your life?" he asked.

"What I'm offering you is the truth. I'm offering a chance to bring the people who killed your parents and sold you to the Alliance, to justice. This is your only chance to clear your name and in the process help your government eliminate a threat to national security. I won't give you any gadget you can imagine, I won't build you a Batmobile, and you can't meet the President so don't ask. But I will support you, and I believe the United States is stronger with you as an ally then as an enemy."

Lena swallowed hard, her entire body had tensed when he told her she was a living lie. Lena Ross was all she knew. But perhaps this was the out she needed. The Alliance had always told her there would be a day when she would be allowed to "retire", Jeffry had even made plans for that day. He'd taught her how to put money away secretly so the Alliance couldn't track it and the Alliance themselves had taught her how to live "off grid." Someday she would say she _used _to be a spy. But every scenario she'd ever come up with included the alliance allowing her to leave. Some kind of 'thank you for your service you are free to go.' She hadn't ever fantasized about betraying them, the thought hadn't occurred to her yet because betraying them was impossible. She'd be killed. But she didn't want to be a terrorist, if there was a way out she had to at least consider it.

There was a pound at the plane door and Agent Forester stood, punched a code into the keypad next to the door, and released the lock on the door. Jeffry bounded up the stairs and into the jet.

"Lena!" he shouted "Thank God you're all right." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. She winced slightly but didn't recoil from him. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I was going to tell you but the moment never seemed right."

"There is no right moment." she said "Does Charlotte know?"

"Yes, of course she knows. She's involved too."

"How long? How long have you been a double agent?"

"Five years."

Lena listened for what seemed like hours as her father recounted a life dramatically different from any version she'd ever heard. At first he'd been recruited by what he thought was a division of Interpol but as the years went on it became clear the two organizations were not associated. When they had adopted Lena things became clear, he wanted to be someone Lena could look up to. He wanted to be the husband and father he knew he should be. He and Charlotte had left the Alliance in search of redemption but they couldn't get Lena out. Lena was too deeply involved in agent training. Their only solution had been to allow Lena to finish agent training and have her make her own decision when the moment presented itself.

"Lena, please consider his offer, it's a chance to do the right thing."

Lena was tired, her throat and head hurt. She wanted to sleep on the proposition before she accepted or declined. She could see that Jeffry was exhausted too.

"I need more information, I need to be able to make an informed decision."

"What do you want?" Agent Forester asked

"I want the file on my parent's deaths. I want to read it and see what we are up against."

"Absolutely not. That's classified." He stood up and paced to the back of the plane and forward again. "Even if you join us you won't have the clearance to read the entire contents of that file." He snapped, for the first time in the conversation showing a twinge of anger.

"Ok, alright, Lena if you join us we will be able to tell you much more about your parents but you just can't read the file." Jeffry said trying to appease her.

"So I get all my information second hand, filtered." She snapped.

"No, of course not…" Jeffry answered

"Yes." Forester interrupted "Your clearance will allow you access to some information and other artifacts of a more sensitive nature will continue to be classified."

"Fine, then I want my brother's military record. That isn't highly classified is it? Or is his death under investigation too?" She didn't know where the words had come from. Her brother was in the Military? In the few short hours she had begun to remember bits and pieces of her past, her brother had been nothing more than a name on the computer screen.

"No, he isn't under investigation." Jeffry answered. Then looked pleadingly over at the Agent. "I don't think that record is too much to ask."

"I can provide you with a basic record." Forester answered begrudgingly "You will have 24 hours to read it, make your decision and return the file to me directly. Understood?"

Lena nodded surprised at her luck.

"Thank you, it's late, have we reached a place we can conclude for tonight?" Jeffry asked

"This conversation we had today is confidential. Transferring any of the information you received will result in a charge of treason or terrorism. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Have the file delivered to our suite when it becomes available." Jeffry said.

"Alright. Lena you are released into Jeffry's custody…"

"Yea yea, stay with him or charge of treason and terrorism got it."

"I'm going for a run" she announced into her father's bed room.

"It's five thirty wait another hour and I'll come along."

"I can't sleep. I'm going alone. Don't call in the Feds, I'll come back."

"Go." He answered sleepily as he rolled over again.

Her run turned into a cab ride which led to the City of Evanston she left the cab a few blocks away from the cemetery and stopped at a store to buy a bunch of flowers. It was a clear day in Evanston, a beautiful day for a run. The way the sun fell on her skin here felt different than anywhere else she had experienced. The way the store clerk spoke to her felt natural and comforting even though he was borderline rude. His rudeness had made her laugh, you would think a florist might have been more cheerful, but he made no secret that her ten dollar purchase would not make or break his day.

Now she walked through the vast cemetery glancing at all the graves she passed. Who would have imagined the cemetery would be so large? She walked aimlessly around the graves reading each name, why hadn't she found out the row they were in? Cemeteries were organized right? There was a map online somewhere she should have found that would have saved her all this circling. She vaguely remembered being here before, or maybe not this cemetery. It had been for the funeral of a great uncle maybe? She wasn't sure. Finally after almost an hour she saw the names she was looking for. "Joseph Samuelle Samantha Samuelle." She cringed seeing her parents names again, but thankfully she didn't descend into a panic attack as she had yesterday when she saw their names for the first time in years.

Like yesterday she tried to remember but anything that did come felt like a dream. She tried to remember her father's face, then her mother's nothing came to her. She didn't even own a photograph. She needed to remember to ask Agent Forester for a photograph when she went to see him today. Maybe she couldn't have the full file but as their daughter she was entitled to have faces to go with the names. A lot of memories had come back to her last night as she lay awake in her hotel suite. Somehow she remembered that people used to say she looked just like her mom. That thought comforted her for a while but staring at her parent's grave triggered the tears. She hadn't cried in a long time. There hadn't really been anything to cry about, she had lost everything the day she lost her family.

So, she let the tears come. She let them run their course, she knew she could stop them if she tried, but the tears made her feel human. They made her feel alive in a way she hadn't in a long time.

She after a while of staring at her parent's graves she shifted her gaze to the stone on the left of her mother. It was a lie, she wondered what they put in the grave. Did they bury a casket? Did they bury anything in there? "Claire Samuelle" the gravestone read "March 10, 1988- February 22, 1997" _Claire. _She thought, and just like yesterday she tried to remember ever being called Claire. She tried to remember her mother's voice calling her name, but what popped into her head instead was her brother's voice. "Claire!" he screamed down the stairs of their Evanston home, as she ran out the back door of the house, "Give it back kid!" she couldn't remember what she had stolen, as quickly as it had begun it was over. If she hadn't been willing her mind to produce a memory she might not have believed it happened. Somewhere she knew he used to call her "kid" a lot and she used to like to steal things. She still liked to steal things.

She turned to the grave next to her father. She knew brother had been last to slip from her memory, not because they were close, he was much older than her and had joined the military a few years before everything had changed, but because she always believed he could do anything. When her nightmares finally stopped, she knew she continued to have fantasies and daydreams that he would appear out of nowhere and find her. He would tell her it was going to be ok now, he would make sure she was safe. After a few years she stopped daydreaming. He was gone, just like they all told her. He was dead, just like her parents.

She pulled three flowers from the bouquet and laid the majority on her parent's grave. She tried to say goodbye to them, she tried to choke out the words around the tears but they wouldn't come. "You never came." She forced out angrily at her brother's grave. "I'll find my own way out." She whimpered. She knew, even when she was young that he wasn't coming, she knew even then that she had to do what she was told or she would get hurt, or worse, there was no one to protect her, no one to rescue her, she was on her own, and she would have to save herself.

She tried to say his name but just like her parents she couldn't force the sounds out. She tried to say goodbye to him, but all that came out was tears. Goodb_ye mom, bye daddy, if you're up there watching me, forgive me, you won't like what you see. _She thought.

She knelt down and laid the final three flowers on her brother's grave, his stone, like hers, was simple, built into the ground, the kind the lawn mower can move right across without stopping. She brushed away the stray grass and leaves so any passerby could read "Michael Samuelle" etched into the granite.

**Thanks for reading, please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Special thank you to those who have reviewed! It's so encouraging to have your feedback!**

"So where did you go?" Jeffry asked from the living room of their suite at the Fairmont hotel in Chicago.

"Down by the lake." Lena answered as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "It was really windy."

"hmpf." He sighed. "and here I thought you were probably sneaking off to that cemetery you looked up yesterday."

Lena sat down her coffee mug hard on the counter. How did Jeffry always seem to be one step ahead of her. "You saw me get in the cab?" she questioned.

"No, I just know you." He smiled gently, "the creamer is in the fridge." He gestured toward the minifridge. "So what did the taxi driver say to a twenty year old girl with a bruised neck and a black eye leaving a hotel at 5am?"

Lena smiled softly. "well, I got a look. But he kept his mouth shut."

"This arrived for you while you were gone." Jeffry walked over to the desk and picked up a manila envelope "I read it, just so you know." Lena held her hand out for the envelope.

She snatched it from his hands and ripped the papers out and collapsed on the floor next to the couch.

Private Second Class

Michael Samuelle

June 21, 1977- May 3, 2001

It took her a little over an hour to read the record from front to back, three times. She needed to be sure she didn't miss anything. With almost every word her brother perpetuated her childhood idea that he was capable of anything he put his mind to. Each sentence of the record read like a biography of an American hero to Lena, but she knew it would all come to an end. The third line of the first page told her that this biography would not be a novel, it would be a short story.

He had graduated high school near the very top of his class, not an easy feat in a town home to a prestigious university. He played varsity football and soccer in high school, he was in National Honor Society, and was the class vice president his senior year. Although he applied and was accepted into several well known universities he entered the Navy after graduation. He moved up through the ranks quickly and acquired awards and commendations along the way. Lena remembered how he never seemed to stay in one place long. He would come home for a short time, and then they would be driving him to the airport again. Her memories of him were fleeting, one moment he was there, and the next, he was gone.

He'd been taken off active duty for a brief period of time around the time their parent's accident. After the accident he put in a request to be deployed abroad. He married Elizabeth and she moved away with him. Lena vaguely remembered her, tall and blond, and always exceedingly kind to her as a child. They had a child together, Haley.

Seeing Haley's name brought tears to her eyes. She had always been convinced that her family was dead, all of them. At one point they were wrong, she had a brother, a sister-in-law, and a niece and all of them would have loved her.

It seemed like Michael had somehow moved on after their parent's accident, her accident too as far as he would have known. This was a feat she had yet to accomplish, but he had created a life for himself. He must have been happy, she thought to herself, with a daughter, a wife, and a successful career. He was only a couple years older than she was now, and he had accomplished so much, so much more than her.

2001 was where it all fell apart; in fact it fell apart in less than two months. On March 21, 2001, Elizabeth and Haley were murdered in a car bomb. Her stomach gave a violent lurch and she knew, without needing to read any further; what had happened to her brother. A man who has lost everything is a dangerous thing. Terrorists took away everything Michael lived for, and on May 3, 2001, Michael finished the job. He was found dead in a hotel room in New York, from an apparent drug overdose.

There had been so much sadness and despair in her brother's short life. She wished she had been there to hug him, and to ask him not to do the unthinkable. But she couldn't judge, she hadn't been there, she hadn't experienced his loss and she couldn't imagine the depth of his loneliness. How could he find peace in a world that dealt him so much misery? Perhaps now, he could find peace, away from the world that never allowed it in life.

So often Lena had thought of herself as alone, but the one thing the Alliance had not deprived her from was at least the illusion of a family. She had Jeffry and Charlotte and she had two friends that she trusted. If she hadn't had those people she would be a monster by now.

She leaned back against the couch letting the thoughts of her brother skim in and out of her mind. She felt a vague sense of peace when she thought about him. Of course she wished he hadn't ended his own life but she didn't blame him. He wasn't equipped to deal with such enormous loss.

Soon Jeffry appeared in the doorway to his bedroom. "Have you finished reading?" Lena nodded. "I'm sorry Lena."

Lena nodded again and blinked hard to swallow back tears. "So, about the CIA deal?" she changed the subject. She didn't want to talk about her brother, and she didn't want to cry in front of Jeffry. She needed to stay strong, just like she was taught. "Tell me if I've got this strait." She said not allowing her voice to falter. "Forester believes that there is a terrorist organization, essentially that's what they are right, that killed my parents and sold me to the Alliance. But why does he want me to be part of this?"

Jeffry eyed her with concern, he was suspicious of the sudden change in subject. Jeffry had never been the type of man that welcomed women's emotions, but he found it equally disturbing when Lena hid them. After a moment of eyeing her he finally answered her question.

"We need you because we are closer than we have ever been." Jeffry said calmly. "We believe they will make contact with me in the next six months. When they do I need my partner,…"

Lena scrunched up her eye brows, Jeffry didn't have a partner in his security business, it was just him…and her… and a few contract employees from time to time. "you Lena… you're my partner!" he said with a smile crossing his face for the first time since before she read the file. "I need you to be up to speed, so they can't manipulate you."

Lena smiled softly at Jeffry calling her his business partner, she honestly didn't think of herself as an equal in the company. "What do you mean make contact?"

"The Diamond Client, the one you just finished the update to the security system. The organization is looking for places to hide intelligence, they've contacted the company because of their sophisticated security system. They want evaluate whether the security system is complex enough to meet their needs. They are supposed to schedule a meeting with them so they can inspect the system onsite."

Lena nodded. "Ok, I still don't see why you need _me_. You could do that."

"I wouldn't go down there, all the way to South Africa, just to install an update." He scoffed "_I _would send a second in command, you." He walked through the living room and sat down on the couch. "If it appears this company is too important to me, it will set off a red flag that perhaps _I _have too much interest in this interaction and they may reject the company." He sighed "We need them to hide whatever they want to hide there, because that gets us infinitely closer to finding out who they are than where we're at now."

"When?"

"We expect them to contact us soon, we don't know definitively. I expect when they do make contact the meeting will be urgent, maybe only 48-72 hours to make preparations, that's why we're planning it now."

"So I go down and act as your representative? That's all?"

"That's all for this mission. But when you join the CIA it's not for one mission Lena, its complicated, it's political, and it's longterm. It's to find the people who killed your parents and bring them to justice. You need to stay the course."

"Well, I'm in. I'm going to tell Forester I'll do it." Lena said confidently

Jeffry nodded but he hid any other emotion. "I thought you'd be glad…" Lena whispered annoyed with Her father's sudden indifference.

"I am. I think it's the best decision for you and I'm proud of you for doing the right thing. It's just a complicated mission, and it can be maddening how just when you think you are getting a handle on it you get blindsided."

"Yea, that comes with our line of work."

"This is different." He said shortly

"Different how?"

"There is just so much we don't know." He started to fumble in his pants pocket and pulled out a photograph. "Like this, you stumbled upon this, who knows how long it would have taken us to come upon this information." He held the photograph just out of Lena's grasp. "The men who kidnapped you yesterday, Forester is certain they are part of the organization we are investigating."

"yea, I got that yesterday."

Jeffry handed her the photograph. She glanced quickly at the standard issue military portrait. "This is the man I fought yesterday, but he's younger in this picture, he was a strong fighter, and he was the commander of the group. His name was Michael." Lena paused slightly as she examined the picture. "No..." she whispered. "That's...not possible..."

"That's what I thought and so I ran him through facial recognition, it is the man you met yesterday but…" he hesitated and shifted uncomfortably on the couch as she gazed at the photograph. "Lena, this is the picture from your brother's file."

**Authors Note:**

**Sorry for the short update and long time between chapters, a 50 hour per week internship, job hunting, and attempting to maintain some sort of social life is difficult to balance. Not to mention I kinda agonized over this chapter, and I'm still not exactly pleased with the result but I need to move on, and I'll probably edit it in the future. **

**The next chapter is in the works... in fact its more than in the works, it should be a relatively quick update cause I was avoiding working on this chapter cause I didn't like it, so I got quite a bit done on it. Its longer, a mission, and we're going to add another Nikita character who happens to be my other favorite character on the show!**

**Random CW rant**, I'm trying to stay as consistent as possible with the Nikita storyline from CW, but Michael's timeline just doesn't add up, I honestly tried it about 10 ways… so I went with the "lets be vague route" (kinda like CW did) so that I could finish the chapter and move on with the story. I think Shane West is a little young to be playing Michael, but don't get me wrong I'm **not** a Shane West hater, I like him a lot (I'll admit it, seeing him on the promos for the series was the ONLY reason my best friend and I started watching. I am from the age group that swooned over A Walk to Remember) But the writers didn't adjust the Michael story line to accommodate a younger actor.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry, all. I'm gonna stop promising quick updates. Because as soon as I think I have one nearly ready this silly thing called 'life' interferes, and then I feel guilty for lying to readers. So anyway, chapter updates will be up ASAP, but that doesn't mean I'll suddenly get faster with them. **

**Special thanks to anyone who reviews! I hope you all enjoy the chapter! **

**FYI: Lena/Claire= same person. I used them interchangeably. **

"How many days off do you have?" She shifted from side to side impatiently as she waited at the back of the boarding line, inside the tunnel that led to the plane. A business man two people ahead of her in line turned around and gave her an angry glare, obviously upset she was talking on her cell. She shot a friendly smile back at him and continued her conversation. "Ok, that's sick that you count your time off in hours instead of days like normal people." The tunnel was stuffy. "Ok well, lets go though, when you get some serious time off like in between rotations or something?" stepped forward and the entrance to the plane became visible. "Look I got to go, I'm finally getting on. I'm last. Gosh No! I'm in business class I just…well you know how I get." She paused to listen to the person on the other end of the phone call then laughed slightly. "Whatever, go save someone's life, K?" she hung up the phone as she stepped over the threshold of the plane and greeted the stewardess. She squeezed carefully through the row of seats as she made her way back through the immense Airbus 340. She needed to shuffle her over-sized purse awkwardly in front of her to avoid hitting the other passengers. She waited for a rather large man to hoist his carry-on into the overhead before she was allowed to pass. She hated this part of the flight being stuck made her anxious, she looked behind her, she was the last one on the plane and only the stewardess stood between her and the exit. An escape route.

She looked again at her boarding pass. _Claire Fisher_, her alias for the flight was seated a few rows back from where she was now. She glanced down those few rows as she waited for another lady to get settled in her row before she could pass, a man with untidy dirty light brown hair, the type of hair that looked like he had run his hand through it million times was seated in her row. He grumbled softly to himself as he pecked away at something hidden behind the seats, a computer she decided. She let her eyes linger on him. He wasn't bad looking, in fact he was kinda cute in a nerdy comicon sort of way. There was an interesting way that the gray, no maybe blue, she wasn't close enough to tell. But his eyes softened the scowl on his face.

His eyes lifted settling immediately on Lena. She smiled as she stepped forward, his eyes grew wide and nervous, Lena held her gaze. He shifted his eyes away first.

"Excuse me," she said politely as she reached the row. She saw the man inhale deeply, just before looking up again. She reached over him and placed her oversized purse on the seat next to him. Blue, his eyes were blue.

She turned and reached for her carry-on bag. She carefully secured the handle, pulled her pillow from one of the side pockets, and grabbed the handles to hoist it above her head. "OH! I can get that!" The man next to her offered exuberantly as he leapt from his chair to grab the bag, jarring the laptop in front of him.

"Ok, Thank You." She answered as he launched the bag into the overhead compartment a little too roughly. He turned to face her, she felt his ice blue eyes cut through her. He very tall for a man, tall maybe two inches taller than her. He wore a simple gray t-shirt with a flannel and a zip-up hoodie over top. No, definately not GQ material she thought to herself, but she liked it. Her heart raced, and for a moment they stood in the aisle, awkwardly staring at each other. "Can I?" she gestured toward their row of seats that he was inadvertently standing infront of, blocking her from entering.

"Crap, yea , of course, sorry." He sat down after her and watched out of the corner of his eye as she took off her leather jacket and began to fumble with the contents of her purse. It was her chestnut eyes that seemed to go on forever, the smile that could stop traffic, the chocolate curls cascading midway down her back, and the way the simple white t-shirt grazed along her body that drew him in, and he wanted so badly to look at her. As his anxiety grew, he flagged down the stewardess. "I'll take a drink before take-off"

Five minutes passed as he sat nervously gulping down his drink. He averted his eyes, looking everywhere but at her. This was embarrassing; did she have any idea what her presence was doing to him? Finally he got up the nerve to speak to her, "I suppose I should introduce myself, we're gonna be here for a while. She brushed her hand against his on the arm rest as she turned slightly to look at him and again he lost his train of thought. "I'm Aaron," he said, giving her a fake name, a girl like that would never go for a guy named Seymour, he thought.

"Claire" Lena replied.

"That's a good name." he answered. _What a stupid thing to _say. He thought. She smiled cautiously.

"Thank You," she glanced away, wondering what to say next. "Are you a nervous traveler Aaron?" she asked gesturing to the drink he had finished in two gulps.

"Not usually…" He immediately hated himself for even ordering the drink. She was probably worried that she had just sat down next to an alcoholic who three hours into the flight would be drunker than a skunk, hitting on her, and eventually puking in her lap. He pushed the glass away, "I just don't like the take off part." He answered trying to cover for himself.

"I don't like the boarding part." She said with a half smile. "Or the exiting part, I don't like being trapped in the aisle." He knew she was trying to make him feel more at ease but what an inconsequential fear. It didn't help him, her sweet as honey voice made it worse. He wondered if she realized that his erratic heart rate had nothing to do with flying, it was entirely her presence that was causing him to act like a fool.

Ten hours later Birkhoff couldn't believe his luck. He'd managed to have a long, intelligent yet light hearted, almost flirty, conversation with the beautiful woman sitting next to him, and best of all, he was fairly confident she didn't think he was a freak. In fact, maybe, however absurd it sounded to him, she might even enjoy his company. Once he got over his early apprehension he'd found she was very easy to talk to. They talked about computers, movies, life, and best of all, she understood the accidental Lord of the Rings quote he inserted into the conversation. So she knew he was a nerd and she was still talking to him. But then again, what choice did she have? They were trapped next to each other on an all day flight.

Now she was asleep her head lightly resting against his shoulder, and he was trying to stay as still as humanly possible. He didn't want to wake her. If he woke her, she might move, and he didn't want that. Most of the other passengers were trying to sleep but Birkhoff was far from sleeping himself. In about an hour the plane would land in Cape Town and he and Claire would part ways forever. He toyed with the idea of asking her to dinner or maybe just out for a drink, but he was conflicted. He knew it would be best to part ways now, before he was attached. Well, before he was any more attached. Without even trying, he felt closer to her in ten short hours than he had to anyone in six years. He was amazed how fast it had happened.

At Division he never got attached to the agents. He learned his first week that they came and went. He tried to think of them as if they were on borrowed time. Any day they got to live was a gift or a curse, from Percy. It made it easier for him when they were cancelled or didn't come back from a mission. Sure, there had been a handful in the last six years that had slipped through his careful wall of emotional security but they were few and far between. There had been a girlfriend his first year with division, that was a huge mistake, and he knew he was making a huge mistake at the time. He'd chosen to do it anyway. Amanda had ample reason to recommended his cancellation that year but Percy had denied the request. Then there were two security technicians his first couple years, two… friends. When his friends were cancelled he changed. It was that year that he started to push people away with a vengeance. When those connections were severed he swore never to get attached to anyone like that again. It hurt too much to lose them. He'd broken that promise to himself though, he'd formed connections to people within division. He wouldn't call most of them friends but he cared whether certain agents came back after a mission. There had been four agents in the last three or four years that he monitored, none of them were romantic relationships, just connections. Maria, Carlos, Nikita, and Michael were the ones he watched. When Carlos died on a mission he didn't sleep for three days. When he saw the orders in the computer system to have Maria cancelled he threw up, then tried and failed to get Michael to intervene. When Nikita defected he felt conflicted, he missed her and he was jealous she accomplished something he could never do, but he was also glad to see someone go free. Michael was still around and after Nikita left he became the only person Birkhoff allowed himself to even half trust. They didn't have an easy relationship but he could let his guard down around Michael.

After years of pushing everyone away, he was surprised how fast it had happened, how fast the connection had formed. Any other relationship he'd had in the last six years had taken years to cultivate and usually he was aware of when he made the decision to allow himself to indulge the connection. He never made the choice to let Claire under in, but somehow she had found a place in his heart. He never made the choice to care, it simply happened.

Next to him the blanket slipped from her shoulder, he reached over and gently pulled it back up, letting his hand linger for a moment on her shoulder. The plane was unusually cold and even though he was comfortable he didn't want her to be chilled.

Percy would kill him if he did anything beyond this flight, and to Amanda his behavior on the flight alone would be evidence enough to warrant another cancellation recommendation. But he'd ask her to to go out for a drink, he thought, _what's the worst that could happen_. Rejection, that was the worst that could happen for most men. Rejection was the thing most nerds feared but also craved. Any woman that beautiful wouldn't want to be with him. If she did want to be with him it meant something was wrong with her. If she rejected him it would make him want her even more. He leaned his head back against the head rest and tried to close his eyes. For most men the ultimate fear was rejection, but that wasn't Birkhoff's primary concern. His fear was what would happen to both of them if she said 'yes'.

When they arrived in Cape Town they walked together through the airport. He was careful to keep a couple extra feet between them so they appeared only to be two people headed in the same direction, not a couple. Birkhoff's nerves were at an all time high. As he turned for the baggage claim area, he was shocked when she didn't immediately follow. He turned back and covered the few feet between them. "I didn't check a bag." She said with an embarrassed smile.

"How can you come all the way to South Africa for a week without checking a bag?" he questioned sharply, regretting the harshness in his voice that he had kept surprisingly in check during the flight. She shrugged her shoulders and gazed back at him with the deep brown eyes that made his chest tighten. He sighed then spoke again. "I'm going to go for a drink tonight; I'm staying at the Sun Cullinan. I'd like you to join me." He tried not to sound desperate. He tried not to sound nervous. He tried not to phrase it as a question. Women didn't like questions. Wasn't that what he read on one of those articles online? She hesitated for a second, to him it felt like a minute.

"Aaron, I'm exhausted, its late and I need to work tomorrow plus my car is here for me now…"

"Fine, that's fine. I just thought, never mind. Well it was nice to meet you Claire." He sputtered and held out his hand for her to shake. But she didn't take it, instead she did something he wasn't expecting. She asked him out…

"How about Wednesday night, I should be done with work by then. We could have dinner where I'm staying. The Bay Hotel, Tides restaurant? Say 8:30?"

"I…I… I'm not sure that's a good idea…"

"Why not?"

"You don't want to get involved with me…I just… My life is like really, complicated…"he sputtered

"Ok, so twenty seconds ago when you wanted me to go for a drink tonight your life wasn't complicated?"

"No, it was it's just…"

"You were looking for a one night stand. And a dinner is too much commitment for you?" She snapped.

"No! of course not!" he said _'One night is really my only option here.'_He thought "I just… can't explain myself." He stammered. It wasn't like him to get tongue tied. He was usually full of sharp comebacks and witty responses, well he thought they were funny, most other people didn't.

"I think I should go. Goodbye Aaron." She said as she brushed coldly past his shoulder and toward the pickup area.

He felt sick to his stomach, but it was the right thing to do. He had to push her away not only for her sake but also his own, he couldn't handle it if anything happened to her because of him. She'd only end up hurt or killed, he had to hurt her to keep her away, it was what he signed up for. Percy had called it a second chance at life, but what Birkhoff didn't know was that the chance at a second life Percy offered, was really just another version of death row.

* * *

The next morning Lena synched the leather draw string on her brand new Elizabeth and James, floral skirt. She'd fallen in love with the skirt at Nordstrom's two weeks ago and had it shipped directly to the hotel in South Africa, along with an exquisite knock off pair of Manolo Blahnik shoes strappy heels and the rest of her wardrobe for the trip. The skirt was about two inches shorter than what her father would deem appropriate for a business meeting but still three or four inches too long for a night club. She slipped on a black blazer and purse and ran out to the car waiting for her at the main entrance to the hotel.

After almost a two hour car ride she arrived at the Diamond warehouse. It was built far away from any village or town. The warehouse closer resembled a nuclear missile silo than any warehouse she was used to seeing in the United States.

She walked through the underground entrance to the facility where she was greeted by the head engineer, Peter. "The appointment is already here." He told her, she could tell he was annoyed with something.

"How long?"

"Since seven."

"Two hours!" she gasped. It was nine and the appointment wasn't supposed to arrive until ten.

"Yep. So I'm gonna leave him to you if you don't mind, I could use a break…."

"A break?"

"Trust me, you'll need a break after two hours too… he's a… oh hell, he's a jack ass."

"Do you have a name?"

"No, he won't even give me a fake name. And I'm afraid that if I run him through facial identification he'll know."

"Yea he probably will, is he wired in?"

"has been the entire time he's been here." The engineer led Lena to the control room. "He's all yours, I'll be back in an hour to check on him." He opened the door wide enough for Lena to step through. "Sir this is…."

The man at the computers held up a hand to silence the engineer but didn't look up from his work. "You, go away. The security tech can stay."

Lena raised her eyebrows sharply at being called a security tech. She heard the engineer stifle a laugh behind her as he closed the door.

"Shut up and stay out of my way." The man with the stringy brown hair said without turning his head to look at her. She recognized him immediately, he was "Aaron" from the flight down. He hadn't shaved and he hadn't showered since the plane. "Make yourself useful and get me another red bull this one's empty." He commanded while rattling the nearly empty can menacingly.

She strided confidently across the room and pushed the tablet computer sitting on the desk to his right off to the side and sat down in its place. "Do I look like your waitress?" She asked as she spun his chair to face her, then catching the chair with her foot, securely between his legs.

"CLAIRE!" He yelled as he jumped back out of the chair knocking it over behind him. "Oh God, Claire. What are you doing here?"

"I'm doing my job, I have developed the skill to do mine without being rude to everyone around me!"

Birkhoff stood a few feet away frozen in place, his eyes darting from side to side. He didn't move, and wasn't speaking. "Aaron?" she said loudly, wondering if she had somehow sent him into a seizure. She slid off the table and took a few steps toward him but still his eyes zoomed around the room, not focusing in any particular area.

"Ok, I got it!" he yelled suddenly, he slid his hand around her waist and guided her back to the computers. "Shut down the cameras!"

"Uh, No."

He sighed and shook his head "Shut down the camera's please."

"No!" He gave her another exasperated look.

"I don't have time to explain this you just need to do it."

"Absolutely not." She wasn't in the mood to take orders from him.

"Fine!" he shouted as he turned and began typing on his computer, "Then it's your funeral." His fingers were ablaze on the keyboard.

"What are you talking about?"

"My company, they can't know that we've met before. We need to shut down the cameras, edit the time stamp, and splice the feed, then start them up again and re-record a new meeting. It'll be messy but I don't think anyone will be paying close attention to this feed. And I am not familiar enough with your system to do that quickly." He answered still typing on the computer, his eyes averted from her.

"You can't do that."

"Oh, I can, but it will take me awhile. But with your access you can do it instantly."

"You're lying. They wouldn't kill me simply for knowing who you are?"

"You're underestimating them… never do that." He answered crossly. Then he glanced up at her his eyes were pleading with her to do what he was asking. She looked back at him, trying with all her might to become a human lie detector, she couldn't detect deception. He seemed genuinely concerned, whether that was for her safety or his own was unclear.

"If this is a trick…"

"It's not a trick, I swear to you."

"But how do I believe you? You've already lied to me."

"No, I told you I worked with computers… I never lied about that."

"You're name then. Aaron is an alias."

"yea it is, but you gave me a fake name too…My name is Birkhoff. And I am not lying to you about what my employer's will do if they know we've met before."

Lena stepped back cautiously then pulled her gun from her bag. Birkhoff threw his hands instinctually into the air. "Good, Nice," she could have sworn she heard _idiot _muttered under his breath "now we _have_ to loop the feed." He sighed loudly again, clearly annoyed. "_Now_, with guns a blazing and shit, you're a threat."

"Disarm please." She said forcefully. This wasn't how she had intended the meeting to go. She wasn't sure if she should trust him, she didn't know enough about his organization to know if he was telling the truth, but from what she had been told by Forester and her father, she knew they were very dangerous.

"I'm not armed." He answered

"and I'm not stupid." She hissed "Against the wall!" When he complied she shoved her gun in the waistband of her skirt. He leaned up against the wall and spread his arms and legs.

"Told you." He answered when she was satisfied.

"Sit!" she snapped as she backed toward the computers.

"On the floor? Really?"

"Yes. On the floor. Now!" She then sat down in his chair and began to type. She had to believe him, he hadn't given her a reason not to. It took her two minutes to shut off the cameras, splice the feed and reprogram the time marker. "It's sloppy but it will do."

"How long until they're back online?" He asked.

Lena didn't answer him, she didn't want him to know he had three minutes of down time.

"Fair enough, I wouldn't tell you either…"

"Get up." She said, letting her annoyance surround her words. She backed away from the computers, picked up her bag and secured the gun. "I'll come in again, and we'll start over."

As she reached the door she heard his voice behind her, "I told you my name," he called. She ignored him, and opened the door to start over.

* * *

Six hours later she sat on the opposite side of the table monitoring his every move on her network with her tablet. He wasn't close enough to hacking the system to do any damage, but he hadn't gone for her best trap either. She was still pleased with her work. What she wasn't pleased with was the energy that was flowing between the two of them. He hadn't been openly rude since she walked in the second time but his words to her were short and curt, he hadn't even made eye contact with her in four hours, not like she was counting or anything. She watched as he rubbed his hands through his hair almost continuously. He slipped gold framed glasses on and off his face every few minutes, all the while typing on the laptop in front of him. Never looking up.

"Alright," He said suddenly, "I'm satisfied, with this part."

"Good." Lena answered, confidently.

"I need onsite access to the advanced security locker."

"No."

"Right, you don't have access." He said sarcastically "So, call your supervisor and get access or I walk."

Lena stood up and paced across the room. She didn't like being bossed around by anyone, but she needed this group to hide their secrets in her system, that was the point of this mission she reminded herself. She needed access. So, maybe for now, she would cautiously play along. "I'll see what I can do." She said and left the room.

Ten minutes later she returned, with clearance to take Birkhoff to the high security locker, 95 kilometers away. The security chief wasn't happy about the change in protocol, he said he'd been assured that the only access they needed was in the main building, but begrudgingly he'd allowed the visit. Lena would escort Birkhoff, if that even was his real name, into the other facility where he could conduct the tests he wanted. Lena would monitor him the entire time to ensure data was not being transferred.

"Let's Go." She said shortly and walked back out the door. He followed closely as she led him upstairs to the parking lot where three company vehicles were parked. She walked to one of the vehicles on the far side of the lot and got in on the driver's side. He got in on the otherside and together they rode in silence for another few minutes.

"Ok," he said quietly out of the blue "So what I said in the airport-"

"The part about me being a potential one night stand?"

"No, let me finish!" He barked. "The part about my life being complicated, that was true."

"I figured." She answered. "But, you forget. I asked you to dinner. I didn't propose."

"You don't understand."

"Then fill me in." she said "I think I'm already on my way."

"I doubt that." He scoffed

"You work for a dangerous group of people, cause only dangerous people ask to send network specialists to inspect the security system of a diamond dealer, and only really dangerous people would actually be granted access." She declared confidently. "How am I doing so far?"

He felt his blood pressure rise. What she knew was simple to deduct he decided, nothing beyond the skills of an average security system designer. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Lie."

"Screw you." he cursed

"Lie." Her voice was taunting.

"What?"

"You're pushing me away. I know you are, cause you like me. Aaron liked me on the plane, but when this Birkhoff guy got involved you got scared." He shook his head back and forth looking out the far window away from her.

"So what. Even if you were right, and I'm _not_ saying you were! Nothing can happen!"

She decided to push a little more. "I think you're afraid to go off the reservation. So in order to stay sane, you put your head down, you don't think, and you do what you're told."

"You are on dangerous ground." He warned "and I do what I do to stay _alive_! To stay strong… I sacrificed sanity a long time ago."

"But holding people away and denying yourself friendship, it doesn't make you strong it makes you weaker. Because you do it out of fear."

He looked out the window quiet for a few moments. He knew she was right, he'd held people at arms length for so long he wasn't sure he knew how to let them in. Then he met her and she broke through the wall as easily as if it was made of straw. That had to mean something? He didn't want her to hate him. "I'm not a coward you know."

"Being afraid, is not the same as being a coward."

"So I can trust you?" he asked and Lena nodded. "Then I have a question. What's your name?" His voice was calm but compelling.

"I told you…"

"you told me an alias just like I told you"

"That's kinda a complicated question." She answered evasively

"No, it doesn't get much easier than that."

"Claire."

"Lie."

"No, its not. My name is Lena, but its also Claire. Like I said it's complicated."

"So what should I call you?"

"I'd like you to call me Claire."

"Alright, Claire, Do you know another route to the facility?"

"What?" she questioned, she didn't expect the sudden change in subject. "this is the fastest way."

"I didn't ask if you knew the fastest way, I asked if you know another way to get there?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I think we should get off the main road."

She sighed, she didn't know where he was going with this but she wasn't in the mood for any more surprises today.

"I know I'm asking a lot here, but if you trust me, then I'll trust you." She waited a moment. All her training told her not to trust him, her father would have told her not to trust him, so would Forester. She knew who he worked for and how could she even consider trusting him. But hadn't she just told him not to push people away...she decided to give him a chance.

"There's a turn off, about 5 kilometers ahead. I'll get off there."

"Thanks." He whispered as he straightened himself up in the passenger seat.

Suddenly Lena was aware of everything, she saw the oncoming Black LandRover cross the center line into her lane. One man was driving the vehicle, and he looked eerily calm. She veered to the Left. "OH, Crap!" she heard from the seat next to her. The edge of the road raced toward her. The ravine next to the road wasn't deep but steep enough that it was unlikely she could control the SUV if they went over it. She hit the breaks hard, but she was too close. Glass shattered around her and airbags went off in all directions.

When the SUV finally came to a stop Lena coughed through the airbag powder. She hung upside down suspended by her seatbelt, only a mere inch or two between her head and the crumpled roof of the truck. Her side of the SUV was crumpled badly. She quickly surveyed the escape route like all good spies should do. She couldn't get out from her end. Then she heard a voice. Someone was approaching the car. She franticallly reached for the seatbelt release only to find it jammed. A hand closed around hers startling her, she nearly screamed. She'd forgotten he was in the car.

She looked over toward the passenger seat. His eyes were open, a small amount of blood ran across his forehead. He released her hand then winced as he reached back behind her head and pulled her bag and took out her gun. He handed the gun to her.

"Birkhoff!" she heard someone yell from outside the vehicle

"If you get a clear shot you take it. Because if you don't he will." Birkhoff whispered "I'm here!" He yelled louder so the man could hear "I can't get out."

"And the girl?"

"She's dead." He lied as he looked at Lena.

Soon she heard the man prying at the metal to get the door open. "It's ok." He mouthed to her, "You're mission plan sucked by the way! You easily could have killed me in the process!" he yelled louder so the man outside could hear.

"Collateral damage, either way I took the target." He answered as pulled on the door.

"When I say." He mouthed to her again. She nodded.

She held the gun shakily in her left hand as she watched the pair of feet kick around the dirt as they pried at Birkhoff's door.

"Put that away!" Birkhoff snapped at the man "Get me out of this dam car, then you can confirm the kill." She watched as the man placed a semi-automatic weapon behind him in the dirt. He pulled Birkhoff from the decrepit vehicle. Birkhoff cried out, and yelled in pain throughout the whole process, Lena wondered how badly he was hurt. Although she was shaking uncontrollably she didn't think she was hurt badly. The man outside pushed Birkhoff of to the side then she saw him plant is feet to look down into the vehicle to confirm his kill. She took the gun and aimed it toward what had been the window. Before she saw the man's full face she fired.

* * *

"I want two weeks!" he argued into the phone as he paced back and forth across the patio. "I have over three months in leave time built up and I haven't used a day in two years!"

"Why now? You tell Amanda to have a division cleaner break three of her ribs then have her hop a 24 hour plane ride to South Africa!"

"Then go clear it with Percy! I earned this time, Michael." He tapped the phone to end the call and placed it carefully on the railing of the deck. He stepped cautiously down the five stairs, trying not to aggravate his ribs, and walked down the path toward the beach. He found her there waiting. She was sitting contently in the sand digging her toes down into the sand then pulling them out again.

Sat down behind her, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close to his uninjured shoulder.

"what I did yesterday…" she trailed off and Birkhoff waited. "that man…"He'd been hearing these types of phrases all day. The recruits at Division were usually quieter about their first kill, but then he knew that showing remorse would not be acceptable around Division.

"You acted in self defense." He said as he pressed his face into her hair. "That man, he's killed many times, and he would have killed again after he killed you. You did the right thing."

"It didn't feel like self defence… it was still wrong."

"Maybe, but things aren't always black and white."

"have you ever?" she asked tearfully. He hesitated.

"I can't answer that."

"I'm sorry," she said "I'm truly not to interrogate you."

"I know." He knew she was just feeling the normal guilt that surrounded what she had just done. He would have been nervous if she didn't express some remorse but he still couldn't give her information about his involvement with division. He wanted to comfort her but he had no idea how to do that. "How about this. I think we both have things we can't talk about. So we don't ask questions we can't answer ourselves."

"Ok." She agreed after thinking for a moment. Then immediately tested his new rule. She turned suddenly to face him. "Why now? Why risk them finding out about a relationship now?"He winced slightly at her sudden movement against her chest "Sorry!" she apologized

He took two slow breaths, then whispered "I'm ok, you answer first."

"Ok, I'm not afraid of my employer. They don't have a problem with me dating, as long as I remain confidential to my clients." She said easily. It was true, the alliance didn't seem to care, in fact they had always encouraged cover relationships. Especially relationships that held a mutual advantage to the organization. She was sure Forester might have a thing or two to say about her dating Birkoff, a member of the very group they were working to stop but she wasn't _afraid_ of him. "your turn."

"You."

"I just answered! Its your turn and your rule!"

"No," he laughed slightly then stopped immediately because of the sharp pain in his chest. "I hadn't met you." He leaned froward and kissed her forehead. "I just know now. It's you." He whispered, then he put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to meet his he lowered his head until he was cheek to cheek with her, he hesitated a moment before he allowed his lips to caress hers. As he touched her lips with his, he was sure, he wanted to stay here, with her, forever.

**A/N: Whew! Super. Long. Chapter. Congrats you made it to the end! Now let me know how I did by reviewing :) **

**Yea romance, kinda a stretch for me. I don't really read romance outside of fanfiction, so its hard for me to write it. But I love Birkhoff, and I want him get a date! lol. I know I played Birkhoff a little OOC here, but he is outside of division for this chapter. If you want my explanation please see my profile page, I loaded a little note there about my take on Birkhoff's character. **

**Thanks for reading! **


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm SO happy Nikita got renewed for season 2! I was anxiously awaiting the announcement... I joined twitter just so I could know as soon as it was announced. Shane West didn't let me down he tweeted right away. And Birkhoff got a decent amount of screen time in the finale. I'm really excited to see what happens with his character in season two. Let's hope he gets a date, and maybe a little sun.**

**This chapter is three short disjointed pieces that set up other things to come in the story and give you some insight into Birkhoff and Claire(Lena)'s relationship. It's different than other chapters I've written so its a change. I hope it works, if not, I wanted or needed, all three moments in the story and I wanted them before other things happen so I guess for now it's going stay this way. At least for now. **

**FYI-Claire/Lena= Same person it just depends who she's talking to.**

_Four months later:_

"I'll have a Red-Eye." Birkhoff ordered "And I'll get hers." He stepped back away from the register allowing her to move forward.

"Decaf Grande Vanilla Latte with Soy, Please." Claire said kindly to the clerk.

"Girl drink." He teased as picked through his wallet for cash. "Put a chocolate chip cookie on there too."

"Rough day?" she said with a smile. He glanced at her with a questioning expression. "You got the cookie." She added

"Is that my tell?" he asked playfully

"Sometimes, you usually get dessert after a bad day."She explained.

"Oh, if only a cookie would solve all my problems." He half-smiled, as he broke the cookie and handed her a piece. He led her to one of the tables near the back of the coffee shop. "No, today wasn't that bad." He took off his jacket and left it on the chair before going to get their drinks at the bar.

"So, as great as this coffee shop is, I've been thinking we need to branch out our date venues." He said as he returned to the table.

"But we go lots of places." She joked, it didn't really matter what they did, she was just happy to be with him. But it was true, their dates were about as spontaneous as a CIA mission. Birkhoff was in a constant state of high alert. It hadn't taken her long to realize that Birkhoff had some kind of tracking chip on him at all times. She wasn't sure if it was imbedded in his cell phone, the laptop he always carried, or actually on him, but she was sure it was there. He didn't have to tell her about the tracker. It was clear the third week they were back in the U.S. and he got called into work from her apartment. He went into a complete meltdown as he leapt out of bed and turned her room upside down as he looked for his pants, socks, and sweatshirt. He'd refused to come back to her apartment again saying that it was too far from his work, and his work knew exactly how long it should take him to get from apartment to office. He'd said something about diverting a signal, but it was too difficult now. She didn't know exactly what he was talking about but whatever it was made him crazy. She hadn't brought up going back to her apartment again.

He stared at her blankly and chose not to respond to hear teasing. "Alright, what do you have in mind?" she conceded as she reached across the table to take his hand

"I think we could be safe at my place."

"your place?" she wondered, she pulled back slightly from his grip but he held her hand tight. "Your kidding right?"

"No, I'm not." His eyes were serious. "Yes, they know where I live, and yes, they set me up with the apartment but my loft is one place I can control."

"But hiding right under their nose?"

"The best place to hide something is in plain sight."

"in plain sight…" she repeated uneasy, rolling her eyes slightly.

"well, not quite plain sight." She shook her head. What he was saying was scaring her but he persisted. "Look, if anyone can beat my company's security its me. I've thought of everything so far, everything I would check out with an agent I suspected of…" he stopped, unsure how he wanted to finish the sentence.

"I don't like it."

"I've thought this through, look, why do you think we're at this coffee shop?"

"Cause its a nice coffee shop?"

"Yea, it is." He answered "but I've also been a customer here since before I met you, so it doesn't upset my routine. It's has never had a camera based security system installed. There's a concave mirror, there," he pointed " that allows me to see into the storage room. And, I know that the storage room leads to a back exit." He lifted his phone from the table and faced it toward Claire. "I placed a camera under the counter which provides a clear view of the front door and uploads it in real time to my phone. And when we walk out of here, next four stores in either direction, don't have security cameras that have a street view. I know that the traffic cameras at each intersection north and south, only take pictures when there are cars at the light. If I cross the street when their aren't cars at the intersection, I won't be photographed. By the time a camera catches a clear view of me, or you. I'm two blocks away and could have been coming from anywhere."

"Ok, so you've thought this coffee shop through. But your own apartment? That just seems... it seems like we are waving our relationship in front of their faces."

"No we're not. Come on, I'll show you." He picked up his coffee and stood up from the table. Lena hesitated. She wasn't convinced. He pulled her gently from her chair.

"Ok. But this makes me nervous. We've been doing alright for four months…"

"We can do better. Just let me show you, then you can decide what you think."

Together they left the coffee shop and started down the street. He walked along the street in quick steps with his head lowered, trying to be the invisible man. She nearly ran to keep up with him. He pointed out every security camera along the way and what she should do with each one. Some of them required her to walk on an edge of the sidewalk, others he simply wanted her to cover her face. It was a complicated path but one thing was for sure, he _had_ thought this through. "In a city like London this would be impossible, in fact if I lived in the heart of Manhattan this would significantly more difficult. I'm posed in a good location to avoid detection. That was probably one of the reasons they house me here in the first place." He spoke as though he was giving a presentation or teaching a class. He was trying to be persuasive and appear knowledgeable. "That traffic cam, its an old model, it doesn't cover the entire intersection. If you keep to the left on the sidewalk here you are out of the frame." he gestured up toward the traffic camera. "If you encounter a cop car, they always have a camera, remember the license plate and let me know, I'll wipe it." She stopped short on the sidewalk, he released her hand.

"You'll what?" She gasped.

He stared at her with his blue eyes wide in anxiety, maybe he'd said too much. "you. heard. me." He answered slowly.

"You'll hack the police server?" She questioned sharply. He started walking again, she took a few quick steps to catch up with him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He answered in the same curt tone.

"Stop it. Tell the truth!" She retorted.

"Remember our rule, don't answer questions you can't answer yourself. You're in violation." He pulled her in close and hissed into her ear. She pulled back from him.

"I'm not violating anything!" she cried

"SHH!" He hissed

"Don't shush me."

"Look, whatever I may or may not have my hands in, it doesn't concern you so let it go." He stomped angrily a few more paces, and she decided to let the matter rest, for now. As much as she never wanted to tell the CIA any bit of her and Birkhoff's conversations, she knew she needed to report that.

"When you take a cab, or town car here you should have him let you off in-front of this building. Dial 4-5-7-3 on the keypad and it will ring to my apartment. That lets me know your close, I'll buzz you into this building." He pressed in the code on the keypad then buzzed them in when the call registered on his cell phone. "The camera is at a bad angle so it can't see the number you dial. There are no cameras inside this building so you walk straight to the back and down the back stairs. And out the exit." He led her through the apartment building and out to an ally behind.

"So I take it you don't live in that building."

"No, I live in this building." He answered as he crossed the ally way to find another simple door, hidden between two dumpsters. "This is the key to the door. It's a doorman building, and the guys an informant, maybe even a sleeper agent. I'm not sure. So don't use the front door." Lena watched as he forced the key into the lock and yanked the door open. They made their way up the elevator and into the hallway in front of Birkhoff's door. He explained how the hallway in front of his door was the most heavily secured area of the building, it had motion sensors, cameras, and audio recording devices. He also explained how he'd found these his fifth week living here and all of them had been diverted ever since.

"So you've always been this paranoid." Lena asked, she was half joking, a quarter serious, and a quarter impressed by his thoroughness.

"I am not paranoid." He snapped as he let her pass him in to the apartment.

She knew she would get in trouble for using that word. It _was_ usually used as an insult, even though she didn't mean it as one. "Ok, poor word choice, what's a better word for it then?"

"Paranoid implies I my fears are somehow delusional or nonexistent. My fears are real. I'm taking real precautions to keep us safe. _Cautious_ maybe _prepared_, those are better words." He shut and locked the door behind then led her into the kitchen of his apartment.

"I didn't mean to insult you. I'm sorry." She said after a moment. He tossed his empty cup in the trash under the sink and leaned against the counter. She glanced around the immaculate kitchen, it was rarely used.

"You don't need to be sorry every time I'm a jerk." He said. "I'm always a jerk at work, I have a tendency to bring it home. Don't let me."

Lena nodded, and took a moment to glance around the apartment before returning to him in the kitchen. "well then, I have an idea of something that might put you in a better mood." She stepped across the kitchen floor and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Oh, you do?" he questioned, his voice raising an octave.

"I actually have a few ideas." She leaned up to whisper something into his ear. A devilish grin crossed his face. He let out a small almost inaudible groan as she moved and straddled him against the counter. He slid his hand along the hem of her skirt, then up the back of her thigh, she caught his ear lobe between her teeth.

"Yea," he said dragging out the word. "in here."He pulled her toward the bedroom.

* * *

"Sorry, Executive elevator." Forester said to the courier who attempted to jump on to the elevator with them.

"Come on man, drop me off at 10!" Forester gently opened his suit jacket a few inches, revealing the hilt of his hand gun.

"Alright, dam man." The currier backed away from the elevator. Lena smiled slightly amused by her superior.

"It's some sort of hard drive." Forester announced as the elevator doors closed.

"When was it delivered?" Lena asked quickly returning to the stoic expression she tried to use with Forester.

"The warehouse received the package yesterday. Good work, Lena." She nodded in confirmation.

"And when are you going to get it?" She asked

"They indicated they would be keeping it there for long term storage. But we will begin analyzing the hard drive as soon as our team arrives on site. Your father has provided us with the necessary security clearance for access. For now we leave it where it is, and watch." He paused for a moment, Lena remained silent. "This was a huge victory, Lena. That hard drive likely has the key intelligence we need to really pinpoint what we are looking for inside the government."

"Maybe the hard drive shouldn't go to the government. You said yourself you believe there are people high up who are actively covering up this organizations existence."

"I have a very small, trusted team that I have sent to work on this. Nothing will be revealed to my superiors until we have undeniable evidence."

"Anything else?" Lena asked as the elevators opened to a law firm.

"Yes. I have another assignment for you."

"Good afternoon Mr. Solberg, The conference room has been reserved for you. This way." The middle aged receptionist with blazing red curls met them at the front desk. She led them toward a private conference room. "Can I get you anything?" The receptionist asked.

"No, Thank You." Forester answered, Lena shook her head as the receptionist left the room. Forester plugged a jump drive into the computer, and Lena circled the room closing the blinds. As she finished veiling their meeting from the other members of the law firm, a picture of a museum appeared on the screen. "There is a credible terrorist threat on this museum." he announced. "A fundraiser scheduled ten days from today and the guest list includes some notable government and business leaders. To date there have been four bomb threats on this event. We believe one of these threats is credible, but officials are not willing to cancel the event, instead they opted to increase their own private security." He paused

"And what do you want from me?"

"I understand through your association with your former employers, you have extensive training in explosives."

Lena didn't contradict him, it wasn't her favorite area of training and it was always an area she prayed she would never have to use but she had done an extensive amount of work in this area.

"I want you on the inside." Lena shifted in her chair uncomfortably. She didn't really want to go into a museum that had a good chance of getting blown up, but this was what she'd signed up for. "You'll have audio support from CIA, there are no cameras inside the museum for this event. Everyone will be blind."

"What kind of explosive am I looking for?" She asked.

"We have credible intelligence indicating it is some sort of plasma charge."

"So you believe this terrorist group, the one that killed my parents, is behind this attack?"

"No, we don't, this is an all hands on deck type of situation, we're using you because of your training and your proximity to the target. This mission is unrelated to your primary assignment." He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and removed an envelope. "This has your ticket, invitation, and jump drive containing a detailed layout of the museum. Contact me when you have a plan."

Lena nodded, then took the envelope and turned toward the door.

"Oh, and Lena," she heard from behind her. "Be careful of the company you keep." Lena felt her stomach twist.

"I always am." She answered confidently, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach.

"He's involved in this Lena."

"I know." She couldn't meet Forester's eyes but she answered him truthfully. "But, not by choice."

"That may be, but don't think for one minute he won't sell you out to save his own skin."

"You don't know him" It took everything inside of her, not to snap at him.

"Are you willing to bet your life on him?"

"I am." She answered as she stepped out of the room and shut the door roughly behind her.

* * *

She slipped out from under his gentle gasp; he shifted slightly on the beat up leather couch where he was asleep. It wasn't uncommon for one of them to be up in the middle of the night, but it wasn't usually her who was roaming the apartment in the early morning hours. She carefully crossed the apartment to find her bag, stumbling slightly over a spare video game system that sat in shambles on the living room floor. She sat down at the table and pulled her tablet computer from her bag and fiddled with the usual time wasting apps. She checked her email, her facebook, her twitter and her favorite online boutique. Last she checked the secure page she used with Birkhoff to communicate when they were away from each other. He had set it up, he'd said it was untraceable. She read through the four messages he'd sent in the last week while he was at work.

She loved to hear from him while he was at work. It wasn't always what he said in the messages, he wasn't terribly creative. But she waited with great anticipation for even a simple "hello", 'I'm thinking about you" or even "I'm trying really hard not to think about you." These messages served two purposes, first they served the most important function, they were essentially her love letters, her connections to her soldier stationed far away. But secondly they served as a notification, he was alive and at the moment, uncompromised.

It frightened her every time he went to work. There would come a day when she would return to an empty apartment and every shred of evidence of his life would be gone. She knew he was taking an immense risk with her, but she also knew that if he had maintained the status quo and never met her, the day when his apartment would be wiped clean would still come. Lena didn't think about the future a lot, she was young and it had never occurred to her that it wouldn't be there. But Birkhoff had lived without a future for years, he'd lived every moment fearing that it was his last. That was no way to live. She needed to find a way to get him out. That would be her one primary goal in this mission. She might not be able to accomplish all the goals the CIA had, she could accomplish her own. She would get him out.

She heard the floor creak, and Birkhoff appeared sleepily in the doorway to the living room. "Did I wake you up?" she asked quietly.

"No… well yea." He answered slowly and honestly as he rubbed his eyes and then rubbed his hands through his hair. He shuffled over to the sink where he got a glass of water. "Why are you up?"

"Couldn't sleep." She answered.

"obviously." He scoffed. "Why?"

"I've just been thinking."

"Anything I should know about." He asked as he sat down in the chair next to her. He lifted his glass up to his lips again.

"Do you love me?"

"What?" he coughed on his water. Lena watched his face blanch white as he struggled to find the words. She secretly liked that she made him squirm."I'm risking my life for you, what do you think?"

"Don't panic. I just think you do a lot of things that make me think you might love me, but you've never quite said it."

"Neither have you!" He retorted, his breathing was faster but his eyes were stuck on her. She smiled, she was uncommonly comfortable in this incredibly awkward situation.

"That's true." She conceded. "Well, I love you." She leaned over and kissed him "And I don't want you to say it back because now you'd only be saying it cause I said it. I want you to say it when you're ready."

"I don't say that kind of thing. Ever." He whispered as he slid one hand around her waist and another ran down her thigh.

"Then don't, I got my answer."

"Now hold on." He said loudly, pulling back from her. "Just cause I didn't say it, and now you say I can't… doesn't mean… for one… second… that I don't…"

"Stop." She laughed. "Its ok, its not really what you say that matters. It's your actions." She ran her fingers into his hair and kissed him again, he hardly kissed her back, he was still trying to process the situation he was in. "I think you do love me, you just can't say it yet." He grabbed her arm and pulled her from her chair onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his head.

He surveyed her face and brushed her hair back behind her ear. She smiled again, she didn't know what had possessed her to ask him that question. She already knew how he felt, he didn't need to say it, at least not yet. He leaned in and she let him kiss her, "But I do," he said softly.

"I know."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! You guys are Rock Stars! So I did the math today, and if this was in the form of an actual paper book we would be around page 100. Unbelievable! You readers are spectacular for going on this journey with me! **

**I love all of you who frequently review, PLEASE, please keep it up, I value your input! And I know there are lots of readers out there who don't review but are still reading every chapter. So to those of you silent readers, please review! It would make my day! But most of all just thanks for reading. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks for Reading, Please Review!**

**I changed the summary, the story took a slightly different route.**

* * *

Lena crossed under the metal detector and the security guard handed her back her beaded clutch. "Thank you" she said under her breath as she slipped the strap around her wrist and gracefully walked away from the security station. Her heels clicked loudly on the marble floor, she wished she'd had time to add a quieter sole to the shoes but this mission was too rushed. Soon the sound was drowned out by the music coming from the gala. She glanced around at the other guests, everyone was dressed in beautiful evening gowns and tuxedos. She smiled to herself, she might be a bit younger than the average guest at the gala but at least she followed the dress code. The large ballroom opened before her, it was filled with people, all people she didn't know. She moved off to the side so the guests behind her could pass. She took a moment to look around the party, she'd never been to a party like this, but she only allowed herself a moment to stare, had a job to do.

She opened her bag and removed a blutooth and cell phone. She fixed the blutooth on her ear and paged through the apps on her phone. "I'm in the ballroom." She spoke clearly into her blutooth.

"Commence explosive sweep." A voice responded in her ear.

"Copy that."

She finally stopped on an application that detected explosives. Her phone was of course, modified by Alliance intelligence. Her former employer continued to be very useful to her. She set it to vibrate and placed the phone back in her bag.

She glanced across the room again to make sure she wasn't being watched and then slipped into the bathroom to remove three portable explosive detectors from beneath her emerald colored silk dress. She slid them into her clutch and returned to the party.

She lifted her dress carefully as she walked back around the main room. If she'd had a bit more warning she would have had the dress hemmed. It could use about an inch taken off the bottom, but then again she had opted for the slightly lower heels to insure she could walk. She pushed her way up to the crowded bar and slid one of the portable explosive detectors under the bar so it could check guests as they came to get drinks.

She started to follow the parameter of the room and she caught one of the servers and took Hors d'oeuvres from his tray while slipping an explosive detector into his pocket. A few seconds later she felt a hand close around her lower back and a man spoke.

"My dear, you look lost." He was in his mid forties and like every other man at the party was dressed in an impeccably tailored tuxedo. She didn't know him. "I'm Congressman Curey." He announced.

"Pleasure to meet you," She said with a slight embarrassed smile. He introduced himself as a congressman but she didn't recognize his name, state congressman she decided. She needed to lose him quickly and continue her mission, but she didn't want to cause attention by being rude to someone who could very well be a guest of honor.

"Surely, a woman as beautiful as you wouldn't be here alone." He said. She flashed him a cautious smile. She was sure he meant his comment as a form of flattery but it could also be taken as an insult.

"I seem to have misplaced my date." Lena answered coyly.

"His loss is my gain." He said slyly as he grazed his hand along the back strap of her gown. Lena scanned the room quickly, all she needed was a younger man without a date on his arm and she could make him her excuse to leave. "Are you enjoying the party?" He asked

"Yes. It's lovely." She lied, as she continued to search the room.

"You need a drink." He announced.

" I'll have a glass of chardonnay ." She answered quickly. She hoped he would walk to the bar and she could disappear.

"Alright," he said as he slid one hand tightly around her waist and pushed her toward the bar.

_Damb,_ she thought as she realized she couldn't duck out of his grip without causing a scene. He pulled her up to the crowded bar and attempted to flag down one of the bartenders. Lena looked around the room, just one young man without a date, that was all she needed. _God! Why was everyone old?_"Ah, one moment, he seems to be a bit busy." The congressman joked , Lena smiled softly. "Honestly, I've never seen such a busy bar at one of these events, you'd think we were in a night club!" He exclaimed and Lena nodded. "You know I didn't catch your name."

"Lena." She said, annoyed that she had to give a real name, she hadn't prepared cover for an alias. She hadn't been planning to speak to anyone.

"Lena." He repeated. "That's a beautiful name."

"Thank You." As she said the words, two younger men appeared from the crowd and pushed their way into the bar behind the Senator. The Senator stumbled into Lena and Lena fell back into the man behind her. She might have fallen further if it wasn't for the quick reflexes of the man behind her. He caught her tightly with one arm wrapped around her waist. The senator turned his back to her to yell at the two young men who had pushed him and Lena heard a sharp voice in her ear.

"Let's talk somewhere quieter." A smokey voice growled into her ear. She turned to face him and found his piercing gray eyes were focused on her, and her alone. Michael.

_Don't react!_ She screamed inside her head. She willed her face to remain a blank mask, whether that actually happened or not, only Michael could tell. She allowed Michael to pull her from the bar. There was no running, no hiding. Without a diversion or backup she couldn't escape him in the crowded room. He held her waist and arm tightly as he pulled her forcefully toward the edge of the party. As they neared the edge of the crowd she stopped sharply, she wasn't going to allow him to pull her into a deserted hallway she might never come out of.

He rounded on her and decided to question her in the open. "Why are you here?" He asked quickly, Lena remained silent as she tried to figure a way out of the situation. "Answer me!" he snapped. Lena stared directly back in his eyes but remained stoic. She counted to ten before he spoke again. "That was your chance." He grasped her by the arm and again, dragged her toward the hallway.

"Let me go!" she said loudly "Damb-it Michael, we're on the same side tonight!" he stopped suddenly and spun around to face her again. His eyes bore into her again. She'd said too much… she shouldn't know his name. Lena swallowed hard and sunk away from him, he didn't release her.

"How-" He began to say, but stopped as Lena heard clearly in her blutooth the radio message he was receiving in his.

"_Michael, I've got the bomb. Sub level B, utility room B349." _An unknown female voice rang in Lena's ear.

"Copy that." His eyes darted around the outskirts of the crowd behind Lena. He wasn't aware that Lena had heard the same communication.

"_There's a timer!" _The woman shrieked into her radio. "_Six minutes, thirty seconds!" _suddenly his grip redoubled on her arm and he pulled her in another direction.

Lena instinctually resisted, but Michael spoke again. "I'm not going to kill you." He snapped, and for some unknown reason Lena believed him. She allowed him to pull her from the party and into a staircase. He reached up, tapped his ear piece and spoke."Birkhoff?" he commanded. "ETA on the bomb squad?"

"Nine minutes…. We're on our own." Birkhoff relayed, Micheal pressed the blutooth again and spoke to the female agent.

"Laura, I'm on my way. What are you looking at?"

Lena listened to the woman recite the technical aspects of the bomb as she and Michael stomped down the stairs to the lower floor. From description relayed through her blutooth, Lena came up with her own plan of how she could disarm the bomb.

When they reached the room Michael wasted no time in instructing the female agent to take Lena back to the extraction point. He handcuffed her and handed a gun to the agent.

"Wait!" Lena shouted as the woman began to pull her from the room. "I can disarm that bomb!"

"Take her away." Michael answered dismissively as he turned to the fuse box that held the bomb. The woman placed the barrel of the gun to Lena's head and pulled her from the room.

As the woman walked Lena back through the hallway she had just walked with Michael, she listened closely to her ear piece. She heard her Blutooth follow the communication to another radio frequency. The other agent showed no sign that she was hearing the same communications Lena was. Michael was getting instructions from Birkhoff about how to disarm the bomb. She evaluated every step Birkhoff was relaying, was that what she would have done? If not would it still work? Each time the answer was yes.

"Ok." She heard Michael answer, there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "I don't see a secondary power source.

"Ok, Good that makes it simpler." Birkhoff answered.

"Birkhoff, this might be beyond me."Michael quietly confessed.

"No, You've got this Michael. Just listen." She heard Birkhoff respond in a strangely affirming tone. He repeated his directions to Michael, and Lena realized. They were missing a step.

Without a second thought she took down the woman escorting her. She kicked her from behind her knees and wrestled her to the ground. Michael had handcuffed her but in his haste he had not cuffed her behind her back, this allowed her to fight with her hands. The gun went skidding across the floor, but Lena managed to knock out her escort with a well placed punch. She left the girl in the middle of the hall, retrieved the gun and ran back down the hallway to the door. She pulled her cell phone from her clutch and quickly found her application that would jam all radio frequencies in and out of the room. She pressed the tiny icon placed the cell phone on the ground and opened the door to the mechanical room.

"Back away!" She yelled at Michael. He was turned away from her but she could almost hear his eyes rolling in his head. One hand held a wire cutter and the other was fumbling with his ear piece.

"I can't do that." He growled making no movement away from the bomb.

"I need to get a look at that charge. And you need to move far enough away to let me do my job."

"I'm not going to argue with you." He said definitively, he didn't move away from the bomb.

"There's a motion detector, probably looped into the power source. You need to deactivate that before you even attempt to remove the charge from the wall."

"I don't see a motion detector."

"Trust me."

"how do you know?"

"Cause if I was going to build a bomb like that, I'd put one on. Wouldn't you?"she argued

"I have a difficult time thinking like a terrorist." He sneered as he leaned in closer to the bomb to look for a wire.

"Well you need to, that's the only way to stay ahead."

"it takes one to know one." he sneered

"It's there." She decided to ignore his last comment though it made her blood boil. She finally got close enough that she could see the charge for herself around Michael. "The blue wire there, that's a false lead."

"How do you know?"

"Because it just is," She answered exasperatedly. "The red one is a suppressor wire, you need to ground that before you cut the white wire which is the primary detonator."

She watched as Michael raised his wire cutters toward the red wire. "NO!" She shouted causing him to drop the wire cutters on the ground. As he bent down to retrieve them she hit him in the back of the head with the hilt of the gun, knocking him to the floor. "Weren't you listening!" she barked as she stepped over his body, "Deactivate the motion detector" she cut two green wires at the top of the charge, "then ground the suppressor wire. _Then_, cut the blue wire to the detonator. She finished by snapping the blue wire. When the timer turned off at 2:46 seconds she relaxed. She took a deep breath then turned and pointed the gun back at Michael. Michael looked on from the floor where he clutched the back of his bleeding head.

"Who do you work for?" He asked

"You know I can't tell you that."

"You're CIA." He said, it was a statement not a question.

"I'm freelance." Lena lied.

"And you jammed my com. So I couldn't call for back-up."

"I jammed both our coms, so that we didn't accidently remote detonate the bomb."

"And now you'll have to kill me,"

"Not today." She said. There was a long pause as Lena continued to keep the gun pointed at Michael, safety off. He stared back into her eyes. He wasn't afraid, she wondered if he was afraid of anything after losing so much. She realized he really did look like her brother, she was surprised she hadn't recognized him instantly. His appearance hadn't changed that much. His voice had changed, apparently that rebellious smoking phase hadn't been so much of a phase as a new lifestyle. His face was older, weathered, and she could see the stress in his eyes but it was still her brother's face. She didn't know what to say. She couldn't tell him who she was. He'd probably never believe her, and if he did believe her it might break him. She knew he could never maintain her cover.

"_Close your eyes."_ She heard his voice say inside her head, one of those unbeckoned memories from her past was fighting its way into her conscious mind. She listened to the voices but focused on keeping her eyes open and her mind alert. This was not the time to sink into a memory. _"Come on kid, trust me"_ she could almost feel his hands on her face again, cover her eyes, just like they had done over fifteen years ago. _"Ready, one, two… three!"_ She felt her stomach jump, and she knew that if she actually closed her eyes she would might actually see what Michael had surprised her with that day_. "Happy Sixth Birthday, Claire."_

Her eyes started to burn ever so slightly. _No,_ she thought, she would not cry. She looked at the gun in her hands it had sunk about a centimeter.

"Go." He whispered almost inaudibly. She looked back from the gun to his face. She wasn't sure if she'd actually heard him or if that too had been in her head. But then he repeated himself and she saw his lips move. "Just go."

* * *

"Hi" she called as she opened the door to his apartment and flipped on the light switch in the kitchen. "Sorry I'm late, I needed to run back to my apartment and grab clothes."

"It's fine, I just got home too." Birkhoff called from the living room. She pulled off her long black wool coat and draped it over one of his chairs. She stepped through the kitchen and into the doorway to the living room.

"Not even gonna get up to say hello?" She teased.

"Babe, I'm beat," he confessed as he rolled his head away from the tv to look at her. His eyes stopped on her, she blushed. "You look…" He paused as he stood up from the couch and crossed the room. The silk green dress had caught him by surprise. "Stunning." He finished as he slid his arms around her waist and kissed her gently. Lena broke into a huge smile. She felt like a small child who wanted to show off their new dress by wearing it every day. The dress did make her feel beautiful. "What's the occasion?" he asked.

"I got invited to this gala… fundraiser…thing tonight. We've done some security work for a local business man who had an extra seat at his table. It was black tie." She explained as she tugged slightly at the dress.

"Why didn't I know about this?"

"Cause you've been working the last 72 hours straight. It was kinda last minute." She said with a smile.

"Wow…" he whispered under his breath. Still eyeing the dress, and the plunging neckline. "Wait. Where was this thing?"

"At the museum." She answered innocently.

"The museum! Tonight?" his back arched.

"Yea…" she trailed off "Why?"

"No reason!" he answered nervously, "I'm just glad you're back safe."

"Always worried about my safety." She teased with a smile as she slid his hand off her waist and reached for her bag. "How dangerous could a museum be?" She turned away from him and walked toward the bedroom to change.

* * *

You may or may not remember that Lena has a kick-ass blutooth device that intercepts division's (and any other company using radio communication) communications. It was introduced in chapter 3.

**I hope you all enjoyed, please review! It really makes me happy!**

So there will be a brief hiatus from the story, I'm going to Montana to volunteer as a consultant for a summer program for underprivileged kiddos and I won't be back until July 5th. I'm gonna try really hard to post another chapter before I leave but we all know I suck at quick updates. For about two and a half weeks I won't be able to write at all. So if I don't die white water rafting I'll get back to the story when I'm home.


	9. Chapter 9

**Please Read and Review!**

* * *

"Why can't you just change your password like everyone else!" Birkhoff snapped at Michael as he bounded down the flight of stairs leading into Michael's work area.

"Give me a password that lasts more than two weeks and I will." Michael growled.

He crossed the room and approached Michael's locked computer. "I send you reminders _hourly _leading up to the switch. Its _Not _that difficult." He retorted.

"Just unlock the computer and give me a temporary password." Michael said, the annoyance dripping from his smokey voice.

"Can I sit?" Birkhoff gestured at Michael who still sat squarely in front of his computer.

"No." Michael remained in his rolling chair as he pushed it away from the desk giving Birkhoff enough room to stand at the computer.

"Jerk." Birkhoff whispered under his breath

Michael rolled his eyes, but didn't retaliate. He decided to take the high road by not name calling, though he had a hundred different words he could use to describe Seymour Birkhoff.

Birkhoff's fingers blazed on the computer then finally he rested. "You're temporary password is 'Teacher's Pet." He announced. "Both words are capitalized."

"That doesn't meet your own security settings…." Michael pointed out.

"When I'm the one entering it, it doesn't matter."

Michael nodded once and rolled his chair back in front of the computer. He assumed Birkhoff would leave but he stood next to the desk. A moment before Michael had been mildly ammused by his typical banter with Birkhoff, but now every second Seymour spent standing next to his desk turned the moment more and more akward. Soon Michael turned his chair to face the nerd. "What?" he finally asked.

"I just wanted to say nice job on the museum mission. Explosives aren't exactly my area of expertise—"

"Are you admitting you're not infallible?" Michael smirked

"I thought we were both in over our head." He said "I'm glad you figured it out after the coms went dead."

Michael narrowed his eyes at Birkhoff. Still, he stayed next to the desk. His behavior was strange, he wasn't usually this shook up after a successful mission. "Ok," Michael muttered then turned back to his computer, Birkhoff continued his explanation.

"A friend of mine, well acquaintance really, she was the party that night. I didn't know it at the time but, well she would have died if you hadn't figured it out so…" he paused, telling Michael even part of his secret was a huge risk. "Thanks?"

"One of your escort girls?" Michael questioned, he knew Birkhoff had the tendancy to partake in the local prostitutes from time to time. It never bothered anyone in Division, Birkhoff would never jeopardize his cover.

"Yea." Birkhoff confirmed, deciding that was the most logical and likely explanation for his behavior.

"Don't let it compromise your cover." Michael said

"It won't." Birkhoff waited a few seconds then began to walk slowly from the room.

"Did you read my debrief?" Michael called

"No, not yet." Birkhoff said

"It wasn't me." Michael confessed.

"What wasn't you?"

"I didn't disarm the bomb." Birkhoff stopped walking, but before he could ask the question Michael explained. " There was some other agent there. She hit me in the back of the head and she disarmed the bomb."

"A division agent?"

"No, I don't know who she's with, maybe CIA?"

"How did she know what to do?"

"I don't know,"

"So, she basically saved your ass."

Michael rolled his eyes. "I don't like to think of it that way." He said.

Birkhoff felt a slight smile creep onto his face. "No, you don't like anyone to show you that you aren't infallible."

"Get out." Michael snapped, but Birkhoff held his ground.

"So where is she now?"

"I let her go." Michael admitted. "Not my best judgement but… head injury remember." He pointed to the back of his head where Division's doctor had placed seven stiches.

"Really?" Birkhoff answered skeptically.

"No, she was armed, I wasn't. And I was injured so I didn't think I could overpower her. And she did, save all the people at that party…" he trailed off. "I identified her to Percy, and there are standing orders to bring her in now."

"That kind of stunt would get an agent cancelled." Birkhoff pointed out.

"No, it might earn them solitary but without orders to bring her in, they wouldn't be cancelled."

"Like I said before, teacher's pet."

"Amanda wants to debrief me, that's punishment enough." Michael said. "Now get out, I have work to do."

* * *

The town car was waiting for her on the street, she was going to meet her roommate for lunch at the hospital. Being a first year resident didn't allow Rose the opportunity to take long lunches off campus, so Lena was going to meet her at work.

Forester was playing chauffeur dressed black suit. "Are we going to a funeral?" she joked as she stepped into the back seat of the car and allowed him to shut the door. He didn't respond to her joke, instead he walked around the side of the car and got into the driver's seat. He started the car and pulled out into the busy New York traffic. After about a block of driving Forester spoke.

"Nice work with the bomb." He said, he was all business. "You were the right choice for the job."

"Thanks."

"I have another assignment for you." He announced wasting no time with small talk. "We havn't fully decrypted the hard drive from South Africa, but we have gained some very valuable intelligence." He didn't turn his head as he spoke to her, but his booming voice easily carried to the back seat of the sedan. "We need to contain the information on these hard drives, in the wrong hands they would severely compromise national security. Finding them is a priority. The hard drive from South Africa indicates that there are seven other identical hard drives throughout the world."

"In the seat pocket you'll find information on your next mission. We've got a lead on another hard drive. It's is kept in a secure vault in a Geneva Bank. A bank operated by Vance Lauriet. We have reason to believe that Mr. Lauriet is storing one of these hard drives in his private vault in the basement o f his bank." Lena found a black folder in the seat pocket and began to page through the information, the blueprints and technical specifications of the bank, personal information about director Lauriet, and bio's of all known associates. After a few blocks that Lena had spent reading the file she spoke.

"The technical specifications on the bank security don't look too complicated, my father and I have a few associates in Geneva, we can probably locate the designer and set up a back door. Shouldn't take me long."

"The security system in the bank isn't the hang up, if you look closely you'll see that his particular vault is controlled by a brass key. That antique key has a microscopic code engraved into the metal, that key is the only thing that will open that door."

Lena flipped through the pages again, there wasn't any information on a key. "So where's this key?" she finally asked.

"Mr. Lauriet keeps it around his neck at all times."

_Of course he does. _Lena thought as she paged to through the pages and found the security system specs to his private residence. "And the security on his house is solid." Lena said. It would be a bit more complicated than simply pick pocketing him on his way to the train…

"Very." Forester said.

"So how do you expect me to get this key?" Lena asked, she hadn't found any operation instructions or mission details in the mess of papers she'd been handed.

"I want you to… be creative." Lena stared at Forester, she knew what he was suggesting, and she wasn't comfortable with it.

"This isn't a sanctioned mission is it?" Lena questioned, she suddenly felt more like a puppet than ever before. "This wasn't approved through the proper channels." It wasn't an uncommon type of mission in the intelligence world, but she used to think it was the type of mission that a civilized government wouldn't order. And she knew if she was caught she'd be on her own, she could be tried and convicted in a foreign land and no government would claim her. She had two very solid reasons not to complete the mission he was asking, one was her own morals, and second was the risk of being caught.

"Lena these hard drives are important, we've already found out valuable information from the 4% we've decoded." He stopped the car at a red light and pulled another folder out of the glove compartment. "Information that I promised you," He handed the folder back to her and Lena opened it. "Your parent's didn't die in a car accident, they were murdered by Division. Thats the name of the people we're hunting, Division." Lena stared at a print out of the mission specifics to eliminate the targets, Joseph S., Samantha S, and Claire S. She flipped a page over and found a picture of the wreckage of her family's blue minivan, it was covered in a light layer of snow, just like she had remembered. The next three pages contained a picture and information on each of the targets. The third page had her own school picture. A watermark across it read "Deceased."She felt the tears well up in her eyes but she fought hard not to let them fall.

"When I recruited you I told you, your missions would not be filtered through the traditional channels because the traditional channels are compromised. We need to find out why your family was a target, and this next hard drive might hold that information." He paused for almost a block before he stopped at another red light, and leaned over his shoulder to speak to her. "We are hitting a wall here with this key, and we need you to take an unconventional route to get it. Can you do it?"

"I don't know." She answered honestly, her voice was hoarse and weak.

"Contact me when you have a plan, I'll get you whatever you need." He pulled up to the entrance of the hospital and stopped the car. Lena handed him back the second folder and slid the other in her bag. She left the car silently and didn't look back as she walked through the main entrance to the hospital.

* * *

"Why do you have to be gone so long?" Birkhoff whined loudly so his voice would carry to the kitchen.

"Cause the system is gonna take at least a month to design and install, its standard procedure." She answered.

"How about Sin City?" He yelled.  
"No."

"Well I don't like it, you in Europe, me here. It sucks... Blade?"

"No." she said as she set down his beer on the coffee table in front of him. "I know it sucks but there's nothing I can do about it. It's a very important client." She said as she collapsed on the couch next to him.

"I know…" He said, she'd already told him it was an important client. There was so much about the trip he wasn't comfortable with. One, it had come up so quickly. Two, she had to go by herself. He would have felt a tiny bit better if she was taking one of her friends , but she wasn't. Three, selfishly, he really didn't want to come home to an empty apartment. He'd grown accustomed to having her there when he came back from Division, whether he'd worked eight hours or forty eight hours straight he'd enjoyed coming home to company.

"And no girls of Amsterdam while I'm gone!" She instructed

"Oh, but they miss me." He teased. Once he'd gotten a real girl, the girls of Amsterdam didn't hold the same amount of intrigue that they once did.

"That's not funny."

"Yes it is." He smiled to himself "How about the Matrix?"

"No." He sighed beside her. She took a sip from her own beer before countering his offer. "Harry Potter?" she asked. His mouth dropped open in utter disbelief. "Negotiate B. Find the common ground!" she laughed.

"I'm not watching Harry Potter…" he grumbled as he tried to come up with another option. "X-Men?"

"I'm not sure how that's 'finding the common ground but sure. I could use a Hugh Jackman fix."She agreed. He grabbed his laptop and began to download the movie as she reached for a piece of pizza. "You know I've been thinking." She said mysteriously, and his eyes shot up from behind his laptop. There was a nervousness that she hadn't immediately expected. Then she remembered that the last conversation that started that way had ended in an attempt to get him to say _I love you. _"No, not that again." She smiled. And he knew what she meant. He relaxed just a bit.

"What if you quit your job." Birkhoff stared up at her again but now for a completely different reason. His brow furrowed and she saw a flash of anger in his eyes. That wasn't even an option.

"I can't quit." He said. He couldn't just quit Division like some convenience store job. He'd been at Division seven years and he'd only seen one way out. Death.

She could tell by his tone that he was trying to sound calm, when really she had touched a nerve. "I know." She whispered.

"No, you don't know." He broke in and shook his head roughly. She could see his jaw tense as he spoke. "Don't act like you do." He shifted his body slightly toward the tv, and away from her. It was such a slight move she doubted it was a conscious decision to move away from her, believing it to be an unconscious decision made it hurt more. She decided to keep pressing, her topic was too important to concede so easily.

"But what if I could figure out a way? Would you take it?"

"There is no way." He growled dangerously. He didn't look back at her as he spoke, instead he began to peck on his laptop the way he always did when he was avoiding something.

"Yea, I know but say I came up with a plan… a pretty good plan, all things considered. Would you take it?"

"No." he answered definitively.

"No? You wouldn't take me up on it? Or No, I could never come up with a plan that would work?" she pushed.

He pressed play on the movie and reached for a slice of pizza. The topic was closed.

* * *

**WOW can you believe it, two updates in under a week! I'm on a role… ha ha no not really. But I did get this chapter finished really quickly! I had 2/3 of the scenes written the same night I posted the previous chapter. There will, for sure, not be an update until after July 5th.**

**I do have the two chapters written, they need editing before I post, and I'm still debating whether I should insert a short chapter in between them. But I really do love the two chapters I have written and can't wait to post them. Everything changes, thats all I'll say. So I'm thinking the next chapter will be up somewhere around July 7 or 8. **

**Everyone enjoy your Forth of July mine will be spent smack dab in the middle of no where, I hope they have fireworks! lol doubtful. Yay for road tripping!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N ****Hey everyone! Sorry for the late update! I know I promised it a few days ago, but... well... good intentions, really bad follow through. I had a fabulous time in Montana! I didn't die white water rafting. We saw a bear about 30 feet away! Which is really really exciting from the safety of your own vehicle. I thought I was going to cross a few things off my bucket list but I actually ended up adding a bunch of new items. If you ever get a chance to go to North West Montana GO! It was absolutely beautiful. I met a ton of great people and we made some significant changes to the summer program that hired me as a consultant. We kinda saved their summer, that was their words, not mine. We didn't have internet or cell phones for most of the time and although I brought a paper copy of my fanfiction I didn't look at it. And I hardly even thought about it. And that's how it should be, live in the moment, fanfiction is for free time. So now I'm back to the summer of free time and back to writing.**

**As always thanks for reading, please let me know how I did by reviewing!**

**I kinda jumped between two events happening simultaneously here... I hope it works, I wanted his reaction built into the chapter. **

* * *

"The mission is to survey and provide security support for this man, Director Vance Lauriet. He is the CEO of one of the largest banks in Switzerland." Michael spoke with authority to a room of three novice division agents, and Birkhoff. A large photo of a business man flashed on the projector behind him as he handed out tablet computers to the three agents detailing their specific assignments. "Director Lauriet has called us to provide assistance to his already large security detail. He wants extra protection for a summit he is attending in Vienna five days from now. We already have one agent in play, Dominic has been a part of Director Lauriet's private security for the past week. You three will be added to the detail for the night of the summit. Operations will provide an eye into the hotel and I will run operational support from here. You'll find information on your specific assignments in your mission file. Any questions?"

"So there's no target?" one of the agents asked after taking a moment to peruse the file.

"This is simply a surveillance and support mission. We will be ready to engage hostiles if needed. But, if the night goes smoothly no one will have to discharge a weapon. Anyone else?"

The three agents looked at each other. "Alright, report to operations in 72 hours for a final debrief and you'll leave from there. See Amanda for wardrobe and weapons. You're excused." Michael announced and the agents quickly left the room. Birkhoff didn't rise as quickly he waited a moment, continuing to swivel his chair back and forth.

"So, what exactly are we trying to protect? His wallet?" Birkhoff asked Michael as the other agents left the room.

As the last agent left the room and the door clicked shut behind her Michael answered Birkhoff's question. "No, we're protecting a key."

"A key, like a code key?" Birkhoff asked

"No, an actual metal key. He keeps it on his person at all times." Michael explained without looking up from his own computer.

"What does it open?"

"No idea. We're on a need to know basis."

"Right, protect the key, and I suppose his credit cards while we're at it." Birkhoff joked.

"Yea." Michael answers, without displaying any amusement in response to Birkhoff's attempt at a joke.

* * *

Dominic shifted from side to side as he waited in the living room of the lavish penthouse suite. He was still fairly new to the agent role but his confidence had been building as his last few missions went well. He had been guarding a CEO of a bank for the past week. It was an easy assignment, there weren't any targets or fire fights expected. He glanced over at the other two members of the director's security detail in the room. They made him uneasy, they didn't speak English, or maybe they did and choose not to speak with him. Either way he felt like they were watching him and making fun of him in their own language, which he thought was german but he wasn't sure. They all had very thick accents that didn't quite fit with what he expected from a native german speaker. He'd passed all his Division language examinations but german was not on the list of required languages. He directed his eyes away from the other security members as the The Director entered the room. He wore a tux and he fiddled with his cufflinks, "Well, how do I look?" he joked, his loud booming voice prominently displayed his thick eastern European accent.

"Wonderful sir." Dominic answered immediately

He laughed, pleased with his answer. "Percy tells me I should be happy with you." He said speaking directly to Dominic for the first time in the assignment. "He says you will be a fine addition to my security detail."

"I won't let you down sir."

"I used his men before you know, I am never disappointed with Percy's men. I am quite fond of the one… zee Michael. Yes Michael. He was most helpful in some… difficult, situations a few years back."

"he is my superior Sir."

"Ah, moving up, out of ze line of fire, Yes?"

"Something like that Sir."

"Sir," The other security member speaks to him quickly german and he hears Birkhoff translate in his ear.

"Um, talking about a girl, running late nothing important." Birkhoff says

"My woman has arrived in ze hotel, she should be up shortly. Then we can go down to the party."

Dominic nodded, and watched out of the corner of his eye as The Director poured himself a drink while the whole room waits in anticipation. A soft knock at the door announces the woman. The door opened and Dominic choose to keep his back turned to the door. He'd met the Director's escort already this week and it continued to bother him that she looked vaguely like his ex girlfriend. The one he dated before he entered division. "I need a visual on the girl, I need to run her through facial recognition." Birkhoff directed annoyed, into Dominic's ear. "What is this mission 101?" he scoffed to someone back in operations, but Dominic heard it. Dominic turned slightly so the camera hidden in his coat button can see the woman. "No," he herd Birkhoff breathe into his ear, then silence.

A thin woman with brown bobbed hair sliped gracefully into the room. And Dominic watches in disgust as the Directors hand creeps down the back of her short black dress. She laughs slightly at whatever the Director is whispering in her ear as she slides one of her red stiletto heels up the back of his calf. Her hand grazes along his jaw prominently displaying fashionable rings and a diamond bracelet. Dominic can't help but think to himself that this must be a high priced escort the director has hired. He shifts his weight nervously as the two talk rapidly in another language.

This girl is the Directors flavor of the month from an escort service. She's been over twice since Dominic's assignment began last week, but the other security men tell him that she's usually not around so often. Dominic can't help feel sick to his stomach as he watches the nearly fifty year old director flirt with a stunningly beautiful woman clearly no older than early twenties. If anyone should be romancing this woman it should be him, he thinks jealously. Eventually, the woman untangles herself from his grasp and turns to Dominic who is intently staring at the floor. She says a quick sentence in german that he does not comprehend.

"Ah, my dear, his german is, not so good. Try English." The director instructs

"How would you like to do this?" She asks in the same thick accent that matches The Director.

"What?" Dominic asks bewildered. He hadn't been expecting to be spoken to directly and he certainly hadn't expected an escort to be fluent in more than one language.

"Check me for ze security." She says

"Oh! Yes. Oh ok. Yes, I need your purse." She hands him her beaded clutch and he dumps it out on the dresser, two different shades of lipstick, make-up compact, simple cell phone, and nail file fall out. "I need to take the nail file if that's alright with you." He asks her.

"So thorough" she teases with a sweet smile that momentarily stuns Dominic as he places her things back in her bag. "Where did you get zis one?" She asks the director

"An old friend recommended him."He answers distracted "I have a gift for you my dear, one moment, I will get it, is in ze safe." The Director steps out of the room and Dominic is suddenly aware that he is alone in the room with the escort. The other security guards have left the hotel suite to monitor the route down to the party.

"is zat all?" she asks "ze other security always check me for weapons. Or do you trust me?"

"No, you're right I need to check you for weapons." Dominic answers mechanically. He begins to frisk her for weapons exactly how he was taught in division. She twists his hair around her fingers, as he works.

"You are American?" she asks

"Yes."

"Where in America, I have been twice." She asks as she runs her hand down the side of his face and along his jacket.

"Uh, Florida" He answers after hesitating for a split second, he tells himself that its her beauty that momentarily made him forget his home town, it never occurs to him that its all part of the Division brainwash.

"Yes! I have been! Disney" she laughs, "oh I was so young when I go. I was, hum, nine when I go" She tugs slightly to straighten his jacket when her hand reaches the bottom.

"You're clean." He announces visibly flustered.

"Pull it together Dominic!" Michael shouts angrily in his ear.

* * *

Five minutes earlier at Division

"What is this Mission 101?" Birkhoff snapps at Michael who decides not to respond to his ranting. Both men watch the security screen as a visual appears of the escort.

"NO!" Birkhoff breathed, then immediately shut down his com. _Claire what the hell are you doing?_ He thought. He can't breathe and an intense wave of nausea engulfs him. What is she doing in the middle of his mission?

"She looks familiar." Michael said behind him but Birkhoff didn't show any sign of comprehension. Instead he sat paralyzed at his computer watching his screen in horror, watching his girlfriend fall into the arms of another man. Dominic turned and the picture on screen shifted to the other edge of the hotel room. "Does she come up in facial recognition?" Michael asked loudly "Birkhoff!" he snapped, jarring Birkhof out of his trance.

"no, she doesn't." Birkhoff whispered, his mind still blank. He didn't need to check facial recognition, she wouldn't come up. He deleted her from the facial recognition database after the mission in South Africa, mostly to cover his own trail. He doesn't know what to think, part of him can't believe what the he just saw on the screen but the other part of him is angry, hurt, betrayed, and screwed. He also realized he was gripping his chair with his left hand to tightly, it wouldn't take Michael long to notice his reaction. "I'm not feeling well, I'll be right back." He tumbled out of his seat and half rans to the bathroom "Out of my way!" he yelled at a group of recruits in the hall as he made his way back to his office.

Michael didn't let Birkhoff's sudden exit break his concentration. He stared at his two computer monitors, one displayed the video and the other showed the vital stats from all four of his agents in the field. One agent's heart rate increases in accordance with Dominic's proximity to the girl. _Unacceptable behavior, _Michael thought. "Pull it together Dominic!" he yelled into his communicator.

* * *

The party went slowly and Dominic was growing increasingly tired of trailing the director and his date. The conversation took place in many different languages he didn't understand and when the director met someone who did speak English the conversation was too boring to hold his attention. He was relieved when the Director started to head back to the room just after midnight.

Dominic was tired and he was finding it difficult to be as vigilant as he knew he should be. But as the group approached the hotel room he was pulled back into the mission when he saw a small black duffle bag sitting at the doorway. "Wait!" he told the Director and his date, he approached the bag carefully and pulled out his cell phone, which thanks to Birkhoff, also doubled as an explosive detector.

"It's clean." Birkhoff announced into his ear. As he reached for the bag the escort suddenly spoke.

"no, no, I can't. He's a nice man to play a mean trick on. Ze bag is for me, or for him." She smiled mischeviously at the director and he laughed loudly. She bounded forward and picked up the bag. She wasn't quite as graceful as earlier in the night. The wine and champagne had caused her to lose her polished gait. "tricks of ze trade?" she said with a smile as she pulled the bag from Dominic's hands. "if you want to check ze bag, you can, of course. But I don't want to embarrass you."

Dominic stood frozen in the middle of the hallway. "You don't need to check ze bag Dominic. I actually prefer if you don't. I won't tell Michael." The Director reached for the bag and gently lifted it out of Anna's hands.

"Let it go." Birkhoff directed into Dominic's ear piece, mostly for his own reprieve. He didn't want to see what kinds of toys, _his girlfriend_brought for her john.

"Ok, with your permission I won't search the bag." Dominic turned and unlocked the room door. The two security guards and the director entered the room. He stopped the girl by grabbing her wrist gently. "Thank you for saving me from embarrassment," He said. He couldn't imagine opening a bag like that for Birkhoff and Michael to see. He was sure Birkhoff would never let him live it down. Dominic noticed that the girls head was down, she didn't look up to meet his eyes with the same confidence she had earlier in the night. She nodded once in acknowledgement then pulled her hand out of his grasp and followed the Director into the bedroom.

"We're clear on our end." Michael announced to the operation room. "I want reports from all sections by morning."

"Debrief, at fifteen hundred tomorrow." He said into his radio, then changed the frequency. "Dominic, we're clear, contact if anything develops overnight."

Michael removed his headset and the operations agents slowly began to file out of the room. "That girl looks familiar, run her through facial recognition manually, and send me the report." He told Birkhoff, "And make sure you run her through all the security feed you have for the museum bombing last month." Birkhoff nodded once as Michael turned and left Operations. Birkhoff removed his headset, and ran his fingers through his unkempt hair before he got up and returned to his office.

His office was dark, he left the lights off and collapsed on the couch. She was playing him he thought. She really had been playing him the entire time. It had occurred to him early on that she might be, he had to consider it, but he'd decided against it. Then it hit him, of course she had been a spy, she'd wanted to be with him, and any true nerd knew that if she wanted to be with him, then there must be something wrong with her. But he had chosen to trust her, and although the evidence against her was on the screen there was a very small part of him that wanted to believe in her. He decided to silence that part, what he thought they had never existed.

He dragged himself off the couch and typed in the address to his private network, he opened the live feed from Dominic's camera. He needed to see the betrayal first hand.

Dominic sat down in the living room. He sent one of the guards to keep watch near the elevator and the other took a break and went to lie down in a side room. He flipped on the television, his training told him not to. His training told him to keep the room quiet so he could hear anyone approaching, but the human part of him told him he didn't want to hear any sounds coming from the bedroom. They had been locked in there for almost an hour. He didn't want to think about it.

Soon, he heard a noise at the bedroom door. The girl stepped out of the darkened room, she now had a black night gown on but had a bright pink silk robe wrapped around her shoulders.

"Can't sleep." Dominic asked with a sarcastic edge to his voice.

"No." She answered quietly. "May I?" she guestured toward the couch. Dominic moved his legs from where he had been stretched out comfortably. She stepped over to the table next to him and poured a drink, she took a sip then handed it to him. "This is excellent scotch, the director only wants the very best in his room." He took a small sip then handed it back to her, "No, you keep that, I'll pour my own." He watched as she stole another glass of the Director's scotch for herself. After she finished pouring her own she sat down on the couch right next to him. He inhaled sharply as he felt her press against his right arm and leg.

"I'm really not supposed to drink while I'm working." He said but the drink was burning in his hand. He had a sudden desire to drink the entire thing down in one gulp.

"I won't tell." She whispered as she slowly sipped hers.

"He might notice we've gotten into his bar." Dominic said as he tried to come up with another excuse not to drink the glass dry.

"He won't notice." She said softly and Dominic decided that Michael wasn't watching anymore and the most he would get would be a slap on the wrist for unsanctioned drinking on a mission. He tipped the glass back and finished the drink.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Dominic." He answered without hesitation, in truth he had wanted to tell her his name since the moment she walked through the door. He wanted her to know who he was. He didn't know her but he wanted to.

He nodded slowly and then without warning she smoothly moved over him so that her legs were on either side of him and she sat on his knees facing him. Dominic felt his heart begin to beat faster and every muscle in his body tense. He forced his hands to stay tightly on the arm of the couch and clinging the cushion on the other side. His breathing was erratic and he was visibly flustered. "The Director" he croaked out.

"Is fast asleep after too much drink." She said with a coy smile as she ran her fingers through his hair and let it rest on the back of his neck. The other hand moved slowly down his jacket and unbuttoned it, she used her ring to effortlessly remove the button that held the camera. Dominic didn't notice. He leaned forward, pulled her close and kissed her.

Almost as soon as it began it ended. She felt one hand loosen its grip and slip down her stomach, the other hand clumsily fell down her back. She felt his body relax beneath her. When she lifted her face she saw that his eyes had lost focus. She hadn't forgotten she'd given him the tranquilizer but she had forgotten how quickly it worked. He blinked twice and his jaw relaxed. She watched as his head fell back against the couch cushions and his eyes gently closed.

She lept off him and lifted his legs back up on the couch so that he was resting in the same position as when she entered the room. She shook his shoulders slightly to make sure the tranquilizer had taken hold. He didn't move and his eyes didn't open at her touch. She grabbed both glasses off the table and rinsed them as fast as she could in the bathroom. Then ran into the bedroom, and pulled a pair of leggings under her nightgown, a simple pale pink sweater over top. She slipped an earpiece into her ear, pulled the bobby pins out of her hair, and let her long brown hair fall down her back. She grabbed the small black duffle bag and ran toward the door.

"Where are we at?" She hissed into the com, as she got to the door of the suite.

"I need 15 seconds till video black out." She heard in her ear

She opened the door half way to the spare room and shot a tranquilizer dart into the sleeping guard. She looked back at the couch in the living room where she had left Dominic, he looked like any other man asleep on the couch with a rerun of a football game playing in the background and the remote laying on the floor where he had dropped it.

"Ok, blackout. You have at least six minutes till they sort this out."

She opened the door and ran for the elevator, she shot the second guard with another dart before he saw her. She slid inside and pressed the floor for the lobby.

Her heels clicked loudly along the marble floor of the lobby, giving the concierge full warning that she was approaching. "I left a jewelry box in your safe this evening. I would like it back."

"Certainly," the concierge answered and disappeared into the backroom. After a moment he returned holding a small necklace box. "Here you are Ms. Dayton. Have a pleasant evening."

She clobbered back across the hotel lobby. On the elevator she removes a chain with a small key attached to it, from beneath her sweater she pulls an identical key and switches it with the one in the jewelry box.

When the elevator doors open she drew her weapon again, the first of the directors security guards is still unconscious. She cautiously opened the door to the suite and again checked to make sure the security guard and Dominic had not woken up. She quietly slipped into the Director's bedroom where she replaced the chain around the Directors neck. She gathered her bag, and her coat and turned her back on the room.

"Ten seconds" her headset announced as she crossed the vast marble lobby. She picked up her pace, but before she reached the doors she heard "That's it, cameras are back online." Just before she stepped out into the dark street.

* * *

Birkhoff watched in horror as _his girlfriend_ straddled the division agent. He corrected himself in his head, his _ex-girlfriend, _no that still wasn't right, he couldn't come up with a label for her. But he knew he couldn't use anything resembling _girlfriend._ There hadn't been a real relationship there. He cursed her over and over, but didn't move from the feed. Then it disappeared. The feed was gone.

"What the…"

He typed furiously on his computer, the connection was broken in Vienna, not on his end. Somehow she'd found and destroyed the camera. He couldn't get the video back online. He decided to move on, the camera feed was lost but that didn't mean the rest of the hotel security was gone. In a matter of seconds he had the hotel's closed circuit security cameras back online. At first glance nothing was out of the ordinary. He opened a new window and brought up the security camera's from outside the hotel. He watched as a man and his date stumbled along the sidewalk then stepped into the front door of the hotel. He brought up the hotel's feed, he backed it up to the exact time when the couple should have entered the hotel. The hotel's feed didn't show them coming in. The feed was looped.

He picked up his phone to sound the alarm. This was Claire's mission, whatever she was doing right now was her purpose at the summit that night. Whatever her objective was, she was fulfilling it right now. He typed in the first three numbers to Michael's extension, but he stopped just before hitting the fourth. He swore loudly as he slammed the phone back down. He knew what would happen if he sounded the alarm, they'd catch her. And if they caught her, she'd give him up. He would be cancelled. He cursed her again. All of division would hunt her, and it would all lead back to him. He had to protect himself. He had to serve himself first and foremost, everything and everyone came later. He had to handle this himself.

**Thanks for reading, Please, Please Review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey readers! Thanks for taking the time to read my story! Please review if you feel so inclined, the reviews make my day!**

**Lena/Claire = same person, also make sure you've read the previous chapter before this one or you might not know what's going on. **

She wrapped her sweater tight around her body as she walked down the nearly deserted streets of Vienna. She wasn't cold but her hands were still shaking. She cursed herself for the last glass of wine because she knew she wasn't walking in a straight line. She could tell herself all she wanted that she drank too much because it was her cover. What escort wouldn't drink excessively at a party like that? She asked herself. But in reality it dulled what she needed to do later in the night.

The night hadn't gone her way at all, sure she'd ended up with the key, and they might not even know it was missing for days or weeks but he hadn't passed out and she had to maintain her cover. He was supposed to pass out, just like every other time Lena had been with him in the last month.

She felt dirty, empty, and numb as she walked the eight blocks to the apartment she'd rented out a month ago. She pulled out her cell phone and left a message for Birkhoff on the secure chat room they shared. It should have taken her a few seconds to write the message but the combination of shaking hands and too much wine made it take much longer. She read it three times before sending, there were no miss spellings or typos, there was no evidence she'd been drinking. She dragged herself up the four flights of stairs and unlocked the door. She went straight to the shower and stripped every piece of clothing off. The water wasn't warm, but she didn't care as she tried to make the water wash away the filth.

She didn't dry her hair when she got out of the shower, she simply secured the key on a chain around her neck and threw on a cotton t-shirt dress and fell into bed.

It wasn't long before the morning sun pierced through the open window and right into her eyes. She groaned and rolled over to face the wall, but unfortunately she didn't fall back asleep. All her feelings from the previous night came back with the same intensity. Even though the mission was technically a success she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd messed everything up. She stared at the plain gray wall for a while before she reached over and picked at some of the plaster that was chipping away from the dry wall. She released a few solid pieces before she decided to stop trying to destruct a three hundred year old building. She let her fingers walk across the side of the bed, she wished that side of the bed was occupied. She wanted Birkhoff there with her this morning, she wanted to wake up in his arms. He'd tell her all the things she didn't believe about herself. He'd tell her she was strong, smart, and beautiful. He'd tell her everything was ok. Maybe he'd even say he loved her. She felt the prickle of tears in her eyes and she pressed them shut, she wouldn't let the tears out of their cage.

Maybe it was a good thing he wasn't here, the rational part of her mind thought. If he was actually here she'd have to tell him what she'd done. The way she was feeling right now, she'd need to tell him what had happened. And he would be angry. He would feel betrayed and jealous. He would be mad at her, and he wouldn't understand because she couldn't tell him anything about what her motives were.

She thought back on the mission the night before, as much as she didn't want to relive that night, her training told her to stay current about the specifics of the mission. She'd need to write a debrief later this evening. She got to the point in the mission where they were in the hallway on the way back up to the room, Dominic had her bag in hand, which she knew contained much more than just a few novelty items for the Director. She remembered stumbling forward in an attempt to stop him from opening the bag, she'd succeeded in that task, but it wasn't her actions which stayed Dominic's hand. It had been what the director had said. The director had said he wouldn't tell _Michael. _Up until that point she hadn't really considered that Dominic might be Division, she'd figured he was freelance. She already knew that Dominic was sending a signal somewhere, she'd detected the signal in a coat button earlier in the night when he checked her for weapons. If he was Division, Michael was watching. Her stomach turned over again, just like it had the night before. She'd fought back the urge to run last night, if she hadn't been so close to completing her mission she probably would have run. But she couldn't just walk away, when the key was so close she could almost reach out and grab it. She'd made the right call last night. She repeated that over and over trying to make herself believe it completely. But she couldn't deny that there was still a doubt in her mind.

A new wave of nausea hit her as a startlingly different possibility occurred to her. If Dominic was relaying feed back to Division then it was possible that not just Michael had been watching, but also Birkhoff. If he was watching he would see through any disguise. Where Michael might have to look over the feed closely to make sure it was her, Birkhoff would know instantly. She wasn't sure how closely he worked with Michael, Birkhoff never mentioned him and Lena of course, never asked. But what if Birkhoff was watching…

She flipped the sheets back from the bed and crawled to the other side of the mattress where she'd left her black duffle bag with her phone inside. She dug through the clothing and reached into every crevice but the phone wasn't there.

"Looking for something?" A woman's voice asked and Lena realized that she wasn't alone. A young woman sat near the corner of her room. The woman was perfectly manicured and poised. She had a black leather jacket and tight black pants. She was slender, with sleek dark hair that fell past her shoulders. The kind of woman you don't see on the street, she was the kind of woman you expected to see in a magazine.

Lena gasped as she tried to untangle herself from the tangled mess of sheets and blankets. "I'm not here to hurt you." The woman said. Her voice was serious but kind. "I hope you don't mind, I helped myself to one of your bottled waters while you slept."

"What do you want?" Lena asked as she continued to subtly search the bag for her gun.

"If you're looking for this?" She said as she held up one of Lena's weapons. "I pulled it from your bag last night."

Lena swallowed hard annoyed. She also knew she wasn't in a good tactical position, she was unarmed with an unknown intruder. "Who are you?" She hissed. She watched as the woman smiled slightly before answering.

"My name is Nikita, but how we will relate to eachother is really up to you." She answered simply, she wasn't trying to intimidate Lena. "After I leave, you can forget about me completely. Choose to answer my questions and you'll never have to see me again. Then again I could also be your ticket out of this life. You can leave with me and leave this life behind completely, I'll set you up with a new identity, I'll teach you how to live so those low lifes who own you can't catch up with you."

"What life are you getting me out of?" Lena asked, she wondered if the woman thought she was a prostitute or if she knew Lena was in intelligence.

"Well what does Vlad call it. The life of an Escort?"

Lena waited feeling microscopically more secure, was the woman aware that she wasn't simply an escort?

"Lets leave the decision of whether you stay or leave with me until later." The woman said. Lena crossed her arms across her chest and tried to look as intimidating as she could while barefoot and wearing a purple cotton t-shirt dress. "I'm looking for someone. I think she is one of Vlad's girls."

"I don't know all of the girls." She answered shortly, in truth Lena had only joined up with Vlad for one job, this job. She'd paid him to let her be the escort for the director. She didn't know any of Vlad's other girls.

"That's alright. She's probably sixteen by now, brown hair, blue eyes. She was sold two years ago."

"Lady that could describe half of his girls."

"Her real name is Alexandra, though I doubt she goes by that."

"I don't know her." Lena answered. "and even if I did, why would I tell you. You break into my apartment in the middle of the night and ruffle through my stuff. Why would I even think of trusting you?"

"You could hardly call what I did to that door breaking in…" she stood up and walked over to the door. "That lock doesn't really keep anything out. And I went through your things to see if you were armed. And look, you were." She pulled Lena's tranquilizer gun from beneath her jacket. And holding it up with an amused look on her face. "Now tell me what's a girl like you doing with two guns like these?"

Lena didn't answer. She was good at staying quiet during questioning. She simply stared back at the woman. After almost a full minute of silence, the woman spoke again.

"For now, lets assume self defence. Fair?" she asked. "Believe it or not I found something more concerning than two loaded guns in your bag. Can you imagine what that might be?"

Lena ran through her brain trying to figure out what she meant. Her computer was here, but it was locked and highly secured. Her phone was in her bag, and the apps that were incriminating required a finger print identification. Cash and two different pass ports. The Key from the director was still around her neck so the woman didn't have that. The rest of her stuff was simply clothing and toiletries.

The woman reached into the other pocket of her jacket and pulled out Lena's phone. "I looked at your phone to find Vlad's phone number. And I found it. Way back in your call log. But I found something else too." She pressed a few buttons on the phone before facing it to Lena. It was open to the chat room she used with Birkhoff, and it prominently displayed her last message to him. _Done with work I'll be home Monday night. _Lena clamped her jaw together tightly. That wasn't the only incriminating thing on the phone, but _that_ was bad.

"So now I know who you work for." She said with a slight smile. "And lets be honest, its not Vlad."

"You're wrong." Lena said softly

"No, I'm not. I can spot their work a mile away, I can spot Birkhoff's work a mile away." Lena tried not to react to his name but her eyes grew wide when the woman said his name. She knew Nikita saw her reaction and took it as a confirmation that she worked for Division. "They must have changed some of their communication procedures, back when I worked for them we used secure sat phones. This looks like a shell program imbedded in their base, probably requires some sort of finger print identification system. Lucky for me, you had it open when you went in the shower."

"Who do you work for?" Lena asked suddenly fearing that she had encountered the Division agent Michael would have sent to arrest her if she was identified on the video feed.

"Now, I work for myself. In the past I was a forced to work for Division. Same as you." She paused before continuing. "But I got out, and I can get you out too. You don't have to be the person they trained you to be…." Lena listened as Nikita relived all that Division had made her do, she talked about regret and remorse and trying to just right one wrong that she had committed. Lena felt sorry for the woman, she'd been through more than Lena had been through and somehow she had found the strength to go on. Her story was true, Lena could feel the sincerity, she knew she wasn't lying.

"Stop." Lena said, she knew she was telling the truth and she didn't like her jumping to the wrong conclusion. "I don't work for Division, I'm telling you the truth. I'm working to expose them. The shell program you saw on my cell is a way for me to communicate with someone on the inside, that's all."

"Gogle?" she asked.

"No," Lena answered. She decided to trust the woman, at least with some of her secret. "I can't tell you who, you know I can't."

Lena spent most of the day talking with Nikita. And Lena decided to trust her with more than she typically would share, and she had a feeling Nikita did the same. Lena told Nikita a little about her past, how she was trained to be a spy but something made her stop short of telling her the story of how her parents died. She'd never told that story to anyone, and she wasn't ready to share it yet. She also didn't tell Nikita about Birkhoff. Lena wasn't exactly sure what was going on between her and Birkhoff after last night. She wasn't really sure if she still had a friend in him, but she hoped he might see past the deception and choose to love her anyway. Regardless of what he decided, she'd have a lot of explaining ahead of her. As it started to get dark Lena began to pack her things as they talked. She pulled a carry-on bag out of the closet and began to fill it with the contents of the apartment. Finally when she was finished she turned to Nikita.

"It was nice to have someone to talk to." Nikita said "I've been on my own a long time."

"It seems to me you are usually on your own." Lena answered.

She nodded. "Maybe that's the way I'm supposed to be."

"Maybe not." Lena said as she walked up to the woman and touched her shoulder for the first time. "You've just had too many people in your life you couldn't trust. You have to learn to trust again."

Nikita nodded. "I have Vlad's addresses in my phone. I have two European addresses and one New York address. I'm sure he has more, but it's a place for you to start." Nikita handed back the phone and Lena found the three addresses. "If you get to the New York one, give me a call." She offered.

"I suppose you want your guns back too."

"No," Lena said "I've got a plane to catch tomorrow, I'd have to ditch them before then anyway."

* * *

"Hello." she called cautiously as she opened the door to his apartment. She flipped on the lightswitch, he would work in the dark all the time if he had his way but she liked to be able to see what she was doing. She leaned her carry-on bag against the wall next to the door, she'd come here straight from the airport. She started to take off her boots but then surveyed the state of the floor, she'd keep them on for now. While his bedroom was typically free of cords, bits of broken plastic, and other electronics in various states of disrepair, the living room was another story.

"I grabbed you a sub from across the street, I got roast beef but if you want turkey you can have mine. You didn't text me back so I wasn't sure what you wanted." In truth he hadn't texted her back at all since the night of the mission. He knew… he must have been there, he must have been right over Michael's shoulder watching the whole mission play out. She unloaded her purse and a white paper bag onto the counter then spun around to the fridge to retrieve a soda for herself.

"Do you have anything diet?" she asked as she backed out of the refrigerator holding a bottled water. She tried to keep her conversation light, like nothing was wrong. It was only then that she noticed the nearly empty bottle of Whiskey on the counter. Birkhoff wasn't a drinker and as far as she knew the only hard liquor he kept in the house was a small bottle of vodka he bought for her so she could make what he called 'girl drinks'.

"B? Where are you?" She called louder. The apartment was silent but she guessed he was there, his keys were sitting a few feet away from the bottle on the counter. Birkhoff didn't have a nice apartment. He didn't have a kitchen with brand new appliances or solid wood floors throughout the apartment. The living room had a simple leather sofa and a desk. A 52'inch tv was mounted on the wall in front of the couch which he used as both a monitor and a television. She stepped cautiously around a spare laptop and old Xbox on the living room floor. His bedroom had the same shaggy tan carpet as the living room and it was probably installed before she was born. He tended to keep the bedroom clear of clutter, today the room was tidy, except for a gray t-shirt lying near the door of his closet and a pillow that had fallen from the disheveled bed last night. She picked up the pillow and placed on her side of the bed. She made her way through the bedroom to the bathroom. Although the apartment was shabby the bathroom was surprisingly nice, Birkhoff of course had never appreciated that this was indeed the nicest room. Guys never appreciated a nice bathroom. The tile on the floor was a retro navy blue. And the bathtub and shower were spacious, especially for an apartment in New York. "B?" she asked as she stepped into the room.

"Hands above your head!" He shouted nervously as he stepped out from behind the door. Lena startled, she hadn't seen him there. "Do it!" He yelled, his hands clinging shakily to a hand gun pointed at Lena.

"B? What's going on?" she asked as she slowly raised her hands above her head.

"Turn around and get into the shower." He commanded. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot, as he stood unsteadily next to the door.

"No. What the hell are you doing?"

"I have the gun I do the talking! Get into the shower!"

"Please, calm down! What is this about?" she asked nervously and she held her ground.

"You know exactly what this is about! You're using me!"

She shook her head in response "No, I haven't."

"Why were you in Vienna Saturday night?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd have people there!"

"Don't tell me you just happened to stumble upon a Division operation."

"Division?" she whispered, he'd never named them before. "I didn't know you were there until it was too late."

"Well, see that just can't be true. I bet you think I'm real dumb falling for your little act. Using me for intelligence... well you won't use me anymore." He said bitterly as his grip redoubled on the gun and he held it a little steadier toward her.

"I'm not using you. I swear B. please don't do this. My intel on Director Lauriet came from my company and my assets, I didn't get anything from Division or from you."

"Lies. It's all lies." He repeated manically. "This is your fault, you know. You knew if I found out this is what I would have to do."

"Check! Check. Has your laptop been compromised? Has divisions interface been hacked? I've had ample time to hijack your laptop while you slept but I haven't."

"You just covered your tracks. You're a _professional, _in more ways than one, it must have been easy for you" he sneered.

"No, that's not true." She whispered. She was taken aback by his last comment, she felt the prickle of tears reach her eyes but she fought them down. " I'll answer all your questions but for God sake put the gun down before you do something you'll regret." She took a cautious step toward him, he didn't react.

"You lair, slut. You don't love me, I should have known. I'm putting a stop to it now before you get me killed. I always protect myself, and I will protect myself."

"Ask! Ask me anything B.! I'll answer! Anything, no rules!" She shouted her voice cracked and a tear escaped from one of her eyes.

"It doesn't matter."

"I'm CIA! Please, you need to believe me."

"CIA… sure." Skepticism dripped from slurred words. "I really don't care."

"Please, babe this isn't you." She took another cautious step toward him. "You're not a killer."

"I have no choice." He shouted, and Lena noticed a small tear threatening to fall from his eye.

"You do have a choice." She answered. "You've done a lot of things you aren't proud of B. but murder isn't one of them. If you do this, you change everything. They will have finally conquered you. You will lose yourself completely if you start killing for them."

He swallowed hard and the tear escaped, he lowered the gun slightly but put up a hand to hold her back. "Don't." he whispered and Lena didn't move closer. She waited for him to speak again.

"I have to do this, cause when they find out you got into division through me I'm dead." He lowered the gun further and patted the barrel against his chest. "He'll kill me. He'll do it himself if he has too. I've seen it." The tears began to fall from his eyes. Faster than before, Lena took the opportunity to move a couple steps closer to him so she was only two short strides away from him. He didn't immediately raise the gun. "If I don't do this I'll be cancelled. That's the term he uses. Cancelled, just like when you say to someone 'oh hey I canceled by cable service cause the rates kept going up.' It takes away the human aspect. Makes it easier to talk about in everyday conversation, cause it is a part of everyday conversation in Division, its every day, every moment, every second, either someone's getting murdered or we're planning the next kill." In a split second the gun moved from where he held it near his chest to his chin. She didn't think she lunged the final feet between them and pushed the gun away from his face.

She twisted the gun out of his fingers and her entire body relaxed when she realized the safety was still engaged. "I can't." he whispered through the tears. She placed the gun on the floor and kicked it across the room. His shoulder's heaved as he cried and she wrapped her arms around him. After a moment he did the same to her.

"Shh." She whispered lovingly as she pulled herself in closer. She could feel his tears on her neck and soaking into her shirt. "I may be working for the other side, and I didn't tell you the truth of who I work for. But my feelings for you, they're true. I mean every word. We will get through this, together. I love you."

"Don't you see, I'm next." He breathed into her ear, she felt his tears against her face. "He's gonna kill me for loving you."

* * *

The alarm blared and Birkhoff, groaned and threw his hand over to hit the snooze, but he didn't get up. The clock read 7:05, just like every other morning, but today wasn't every other morning. Today was the morning after he confronted his girlfriend about betraying him.

He rolled over onto his back and stared at his ceiling. The apartment was quiet but she was probably still around. He could smell her coffee which meant she was already up. _Great, _he thought. He didn't want to face her this morning, or any other morning for that matter.

He wasn't sure how she'd gotten him to go to bed, most of last night was a blur. He glanced over to her side of the bed. The pillows were still neatly at the top of the bed, she hadn't slept there last night. She'd probably taken the couch. He tried to think back on what happened last night. He'd checked out a weapon from Division earlier in the afternoon. Who was he kidding? He wasn't going to kill her, although when he checked out the gun he thought he could pull the trigger. He wondered vaguely if she believed he would do it. She might have, he'd certainly had enough to drink to do something that was completely out of character. He remembered waiting at the apartment for her to come back, getting angrier and angrier as the night went on. He didn't remember her coming home and he didn't remember confronting her, he'd blacked out by then.

Ten minutes after the alarm he dragged himself up from the bed. His head was throbbing, he needed aspirin and the aspirin was in the kitchen.

Claire was seated at the kitchen table. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around her coffee cup as she stared down at her tablet computer. Off to her right was a bottle of aspirin, a glass of water, and a Redbull, he felt a surge of anger that she assumed he would be hung over.

"You're still here." He growled as he walked straight by her and opened the refrigerator.

"Yes." She answered calmly without looking up from her computer. "You asked me to stay last night."

He hated that he couldn't remember if that was true or not. "Last night I wasn't thinking clearly."

"yea, that's why I think we should talk about this."

"You want to know how I feel?" He sneered as he grabbed a bottled water out of the fridge, then reached for the advil in the cupboard above his head. "You used me. There, we talked now get out."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you but I couldn't." she apologized. "And I don't think I've used you."He shook his head dismissively. "Look, they've done really terrible things. They've taken things from me, things I can never replace and I need to stop them."

"But, you can't stop them." He hissed.

"You know what Division does, is wrong!" she argued. "You have a good heart B, don't tell me you can sit at your desk and blindly do their bidding. It must kill you!"

"No defying them would kill me." He retorted "and how do you know that name?"

"You told me last night." She answered. "And after all the things they've done, you know its wrong, you have to stand up against such evil." Again he shook his head still annoyed with himself for revealing the name Division.

"But you can't beat them! Believe me if there was a way I would listen but there isn't! It's suicide." His head felt like it was going to explode as he yelled.

"It's not suicide." She argued. "I have good people backing me."

"You know what, it doesn't matter. If you want to go off and kill yourself its fine by me, just don't bring me down with you!"

"Look you're already in danger, every day you go to work you might not come home. I would never knowingly increase that danger. That's why I couldn't tell you. You said yourself you couldn't beat the lie detectors." she shouted desperately "if you don't know then they have no reason to suspect you!"

"Every word out of your mouth is a lie." He answered coldly. "Since day one, you picked me out on that plane and I fell for it. I thought maybe we had something here but…" he hesitated slightly "Screw you"

"The plane was real. I didn't know who you were until I walked into that room in South Africa. It was never part of the plan to meet you on the plane."

"Well I just fit right into your game then! You know you'd be dead if it wasn't for me! They would have killed you right there in the highway, the second day I knew you. The only reason you are alive today is because I intervened! And look how you repay me."

"I know."

"I regret that, saving your life."

"You don't mean that."

"Like hell I don't." He hissed. "I wish I never met you. You're a liar and a slut, Claire."

"Ok, this stops right here." She answered. She wouldn't let him start to name call. And she the insult _slut, _was cutting deeper than it ever had before. "You want to get cruel about this and I'm not gonna let you go any further. I still love you—"

"-Lie."

"And that isn't going to change," she found herself raising her volume to drown out Birkhoff's interjection. "so when you're ready to pull your head out of your ass." She cried, immediately hating the childish nature of the statement. "You know where to find me." She stomped over to the door and grabbed her carry-on bag from its place by the door. "Unfortunately I do need to know one thing before I go."

He stared down at the sink without looking up at her. "Are you going to rat me out to your employers?"

He hesitated, then after a moment he answered. "No, but I won't protect you either, you'll dig your own grave."

**Thanks for reading! I've had most of this chapter written forever. I write out of order a lot, and this was one of those chapters I wrote out of order a long time ago. I couldn't wait for it's point in the story to come. **

**As always, please review, the feedback is wonderful!**

**P.S. I was being really lazy today and I decided to watch the nikita comicon interview panel and the executive producer gave away a pretty big Birkhoff spoiler for next season. I can't wait for it to air in September!**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Ok, I asked Rose but she hasn't had an addiction medicine rotation" Lena half ran across the warped wood floors of Nikita's loft before tossing her black backpack on the table next to the computer. She began to dig furiously through the bag. Nikita made her way, slowly and calmly, to the table. "Other than making sure she stays hydrated and comfortable, she can take this, clonidine, it helps with anxiety, agitation, muscle aches, sweating, and other symptoms of withdrawal." She pulled a piece of notebook paper out of the backpack, unfolded it and laid it on the table. "These are the dosage recommendations from Rose's book." She began to dig again. "these are the pills, and I also got it in injectable form."

Lena relaxed slightly as Nikita took the pill bottle from her. It had taken her a grand total of 2 hours and 21 minutes from Nikita's phone call to her arrival in the loft this evening. Lena knew Nikita had been following Alexandra for the past few days and was just waiting for an opportunity to intervene. Nikita had known that Alexandra was a drug addict before she kidnapped her, she'd done her best to read up on the detox process but it hadn't taken long for the detox to shake Nikita's calm exterior just enough to call Lena. Lena asked Rose, Lena's roommate who was a first year resident at a manhattan hospital. Now Nikita was back to her usual self, self confident and unflappable. "How is she?" Lena asked.

"She's okay." Nikita answered "But the worst is yet to come." She set the prescription bottle down on the table and picked up the vial of injectable medication. "Where did you get these?" she questioned Lena.

"From a drug store." Lena answered innocently. But Nikita gave her a questioning look before snatching the backpack away from her. She retrieved a hand full of prescription bottles, all labeled as various types of pain killers. "I needed to make the robbery look legit." Lena explained anxiously, "I mean who steals a hypertension medication?"

"These can't stay here." Nikita stated forcefully. Lena watched as Nikita stared deep into Lena's eyes for any indication she was high.

"Of course not, I'm gonna give them to Rose. She has a stash at our apartment, she likes to have certain things on hand, just in case." Nikita's eyes didn't leave Lena's "They're not for me Nikita! I swear! That's one thing I don't do, and I've never done."

"alright, thanks." Nikita finally conceded. "But I'm serious, when you leave tonight, so do those pills." She said sternly.

"Yea fine," Lena said as she pulled the backpack back out of Nikita's hands. "There is one I think you should keep. It can basically stop an overdose in its tracks. Its good have on hand." Lena slid a liquid and two syringes across the table to Nikita who promptly stowed them in a drawer.

"And the matter of the ID's is covered. I have a friend who can do anything you need. He wants 25 per set. That's a special rate, normally he charges double for everything you wanted. "

"That's for everything?"

"yea everything you wanted."

"Is he good?"

"He does all my documentation and background. I've never been questioned."

"I just want to give her a fair chance." Nikita said.

* * *

"Hey Lena!" Alex greeted Lena as she walked into Nikita's vast apartment. Lena hadn't seen Nikita much since Alex had recovered from the initial drug withdrawl. Lena had expected Alex to be on her way by now, but she was still here. At first Nikita had explained that she kept Alex around longer than expected so she could teach her how to live in the world and avoid Vlad. Then the next time Lena had gone over Nikita had explained that Alex had decided to stay on and help Nikita bring down division. Nikita wasn't going to put her in danger but Alex could help with recon and tracking Division's movement. Today Nikita had called Lena into the apartment for no reason at all, but Lena was sure it wasn't a strictly social call.

"Would you like something to drink." Alex asked kindly

"No, thanks Alex. I'm fine." She smiled back at Alex, Lena liked her. The girl was eager and smart, she was a good protégé for Nikita. Lena slipped her coat off and sat down on one of the few open chairs in Nikita's scant apartment. "So whats up Nikita?"

Nikita her chair a fraction toward Lena and away from her computer, "We've hit a roadblock." Nikita said, then stopped without offering any more explanation.

"Yea me to…" Lena said, Nikita had never asked Lena what her strategy was when trying to take down Division. Lena always assumed that Nikita her own plan and she was sticking to it. Lena had learned quickly that being a team player wasn't Nikita's strength, she kept secrets, never told the whole truth, and Lena wasn't even sure that Nikita trusted her. But Lena had also watched closely and determined for herself that Nikita truly was working on her own. She didn't have ties to Gogle, as Lena first suspected and she wasn't working with anyone in the U.S. government.

Lena had decided she could trust her but she followed Nikita's lead and had stayed quiet about her own dealings with the CIA. She'd never told Nikita that she had gained access to two black boxes and that one of those boxes, the second one, was still in her possession. But as for leads on the next black boxes she'd hit a dead end. Shortly after Lena stopped seeing Birkhoff five months ago, her trail to the black boxes had run dry. Forester had sent a team to recover a third black box and found that it had been moved. The next team sent for a fourth black box hadn't returned home. She figured that Division had realized that someone had gotten to two of the black boxes and had moved the remaining boxes. Her missions with the CIA had run dry as Forester searched for credible intelligence.

"We were thinking of taking one of your old approaches." Alex said as she plopped down on one of the twin beds next to Lena's chair.

"My approach?" Lena questioned, she hadn't given Nikita any information on her missions or CIA strategy. She couldn't imagine what approach Alex was talking about.

"You used to have a man on the inside." Alex continued. "we're always a step behind them, even if we work around the clock. But if we had someone on the inside we could be a step ahead of them because we could find out about their missions while they are still in the planning stage."

"Uh-huh." Lena said skeptically. There was silence in the room for a moment before Nikita spoke.

"Is your guy on the inside still active?" she asked.

Lena's stomach turned when she thought suddenly of Birkhoff. "No," she whispered.

She hadn't heard from Birkhoff since the morning he threw her out of his apartment. She'd written notes almost every week on the secure chat room he created but she never got a response. She didn't think he read them either. When they used to use the chat room the session would clear after the other person logged in, leaving only unread messages. All her messages were still there. She hated that things had ended between them, it still kept her up at night. She told herself she simply wanted closure but that was a lie, she wanted him back. She wanted things to be just like they were before he found out, except of course this time he'd know the truth and he'd love her anyway. But it had been nearlyfive months. If he was going to call he would have by now. Maybe he never really loved her as much as she thought he did. The only conclusion was that he didn't love her as much as she loved him.

"And even when he was, I didn't get much from him. I used other intelligence." She added the last part to justify her relationship to herself without giving away anything too concrete. She used to tell herself she hadn't benefitted tactically from the relationship at all, she never asked Birkhoff for intelligence, she never hacked his computer, and she never asked him to protect her. But he had helped her, he hadn't meant to but he did. He'd been right that day in the apartment when he told her he saved her life the second day they met. She'd be dead if he hadn't decided to protect her.

"Well then we'll have to go with plan B." Alex announced.

"What's plan B?" Lena asked.

"I go in as the mole." Alex said with complete confidence.

"You're Joking! Nikita tell me she's kidding!" Lena snapped as she jumped up from her chair. Nikita didn't quite meet Lena's gaze.

"I don't like the plan but its better than what we're doing now." Nikita said.

"It's too dangerous! She's just a kid!"

"I'm not a kid!" Alex snapped back angrily.

"That's suicide!" Lena cried. Ignoring Alex's comment.

"I've been training her. I think she could resist their control and I think she could complete the training." Nikita said.

"You _think_, Nikita you said you wanted her to have a life of her own. This is pulling her into your old life."

"It's her choice." Nikita said. "Believe me I'd much rather do it myself but I can't exactly go though Division training again."

"And this is what you want?" Lena asked sharply suddenly turning to Alex. "You want to devote your life to revenge?"

"I want to get back what they took from me." Alex announced.

"What I do isn't for revenge, its about doing what's right, making some kind of positive difference." Nikita interjected defensively.

"Yea," Lena agreed. "That's how it is for you."

Lena could tell this was a courtesy meeting. They weren't looking for advice and Lena's opinion didn't matter. They had both made up their minds, this was going to be their plan of attack, and it might very well get Alex killed. "For the record… I think this is a bad idea."

* * *

"So now we wait…" Lena said as she poured a glass of red wine and held it out to Nikita.

"She's been convicted, she gets sentenced at the end of the week." Nikita answered as she took the glass of wine from Lena. "After that Division will make their move."

"Assuming they make a move, if not we have to break a girl out of death row." Lena said doubtfully as she pulled another chair up to the computer terminal where Nikita sat transfixed reading the articles online.

"You think we can't get her out?" Nikita questioned sharply.

"I didn't say that." Lena responded though she wasn't sure she really could break into a super max security prison. And she didn't really want to try.

"They'll make a move for her." Nikita confidently "I'm certain of at least that much. She's the right age, she's attractive, fit, doesn't have any connections and she was convicted of a capital offence. She's a valedictorian of Division recruits."

"I hope you're right." Lena shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Nikita had been training Alex for this for six months. Lena had walked in on their sparing matches on more than one occasion. But Lena had stayed on the periphery of their training. When they had decided to go after their target Lena had stayed in New York. Nikita had explained that even if she and Alex sat on their hands, the target would be dead in a matter of days. So Nikita had carried out the job. Alex was arrested and eventually convicted of the murder. Now Nikita needed to wait for the United States Justice system to finish the process, before Division would make a move. Nikita clicked a few keys on the keyboard and four camera views of a prison appeared on screen.

"Thanks for this by the way…" she said gesturing toward the computer which displayed four different security camera views of the prision where Alex was being held.

"Security systems are a specialty of mine." Lena answered. "You're welcome, I hope it helps."

"It already does." Nikita answered as she stared at the empty hallways on the screen.

"So I've been questioning Alex for months on her motives for taking down Division." Nikita said suddenly breaking the silence. "And, you know my backstory but it occurred to me the other day, I don't know yours."

"You never asked." Lena said sheepishly. She didn't mean to be rude but Nikita had always been preoccupied with her next move that she hadn't taken the time to get to know Lena's reasons for risking her life.

"I'm asking now."

"Its complicated, you may want to take notes." Lena teased.

"I think I'll be able to follow."

Lena took a deep breath and looked down at the floor. She wondered where to begin. She'd never told anyone about why she was going after Division. Forester knew of course, so did her father and mother, but she never told anyone else. Birkhoff hardly knew anything about her past. He'd asked her one night to tell him about her family. She had of course told him about her adoptive family, that her parents were kind but they moved around a lot. He'd listened and hadn't asked very many questions.

"There were two parts of my childhood." Lena began. "When I was very young I lived in Chicago, my mom was a teacher and my father was a businessman. I don't remember much about Chicago, just bits and pieces of my parents and my brother. When I was eight my parents died in a car crash and I was taken to live with adoptive parents."

"I'm sorry," Nikita said, interjecting the customary sympathy. Lena nodded in acknowledgement and kept talking. She found as soon as she started she just wanted to get through it. She didn't really want to be interrupted.

"My adopted parents were, are, nice." She corrected herself. " I honestly believe they love me, which I guess under the circumstances is pretty strange. We usually lived in Amsterdam, but we also lived in Russia, Yemen, and a few other countries, for a short time anyway. They were members of the Alliance, my father was an operative, my mother was a consultant, and they trained me to be an Alliance operative. In addition to the Alliance my father also has a security company that I still work with. That's how I knew what to do to hack the security system at the prison." Lena saw Nikita glance over at her computer screen which still showed four quiet hallways inside the prison.

"Two years ago, while on a security job with my father, we stumbled upon a Division Mission. I was arrested but somehow my Father got me out. That was when I found out my Father was actually a double agent for the CIA and he used his contacts within the agency to get me released. That's when I started working for the CIA." Lena paused for a second. "Still with me?" she asked.

"yes." Nikita nodded

"Good cause I'm not done." Lena smiled. "That's how I got to the CIA, but my reasons for joining them and agreeing to take on Division are more personal." Lena stopped talking for a moment to gain her composure before she went on. Nikita reached out and touched her hand on the table. It was a very easy comforting gesture that Lena appreciated. "Like you and Alex. They've destroyed a lot of what was good in my life, and I can never get that back. But there are some things, some people I don't want them to hurt anymore. I don't want Division to control my life, or the lives of the people I love. "

"When I joined up with the CIA we started digging. We looked into old Division missions and we found records of an old Division mission. In that mission they caused a car accident to eliminate a man, his wife, and his daughter. That was the 'accident' my parent's died in."

"Why were they a target?" Nikita asked.

I don't know. But they didn't succeed, something went wrong, I don't know how or why but I survived. I wasn't supposed to live. In Division's own records they have me listed as deceased. There's a grave and everything in the cemetery."

"I want to know why my family was targeted, I want to bring them to justice and I want to stop them from hurting anyone else." She said, and she could tell Nikita was listening and probably sympathizing with her story but there was a goal that Lena had, that she didn't think Nikita shared.

"I met a guy." She began and she saw that Nikita's entire body language changed. "I met a guy and I fell in love, just like you." Lena said with a slight smile. "He was my 'inside guy' that you asked about a while back. But he's in too deep and he doesn't know how to get out. I want to free him cause what they are doing to him borders on slavery."

"While the actions of Division are often malicious, there are good people on the inside." Nikita said. "I'll help you get him out."

"I have a plan." Lena said. "But he thinks it won't work. He'll never put it into action."

"With my help, it will work." Nikita said forcefully and Lena nodded, feeling for the first time that her plan could be a success.

"He's not even speaking to me." Lena confessed. "He found out about my mission in Vienna, and he got angry. He said I'd lied to him and he thought my mission would compromise him and get us both killed."

"If any man is connected with you, or me, he _is_ risking his life. Its dangerous for a civilian to be with one of us, its even more dangerous if that man works for Division."

"I know." Lena whispered. "I don't blame him for being afraid."

A few awkward silent moments passed and Lena decided she was done talking, she wasn't ready to give Nikita Birkhoff's name, undoubtedly she knew him, they were inside division for years together. And she didn't really fell like this was the right time to tell her about Michael.

"Lena," Nikita turned back to her computers as she saw a small flicker of movement on one of the cameras. "When you were talking, it sounded like there was more than one person you wanted to get out.'"

Lena stayed quiet as they both watched one of the screens become active, two guards led Alex down a white hallway, nearly halfway down the hallway Alex stomped on one of the guards feet and elbowed the other in the face. It was a perfectly executed move that Nikita had taught her. "There!" Nikita announced loudly. "They're making the move." She shouted as she pointed to a small figure on the camera opposite the one showing Alex beating up the guards. Michael stood still as stone, behind a set of metal bars, watching the scene play out before him.

**This chapter was kinda a bridge chapter, its not action packed but it explains a relationship between Lena and Nikita, and somewhat between Lena and Alex. It also reminds the reader of Lena's history which was revealed earlier in the story but has been ignored for a while. Her history will be even more important soon. Next chapter is nearly ready and the story gets going again in that chapter. Sorry for the long time between updates, I'm trying to get a lot of writing down so that when the school year starts up again I can just edit and post and the updates won't be so far apart. **


	13. Chapter 13

"The target is this man." A picture of a man in a black suit, red tie, and tiny flag pin flashed up on the screen behind Michael. "Representative Ron Phillips of New Jersey." Another two pictures flashed up of the same man as ten agents and Birkhoff sat at the conference table watching the screen. Birkhoff was only half paying attention, while part of his mind was focused on what Michael was saying the other was focused on his own tablet computer where he was paging through an online catalogue of new projectors. The one in this room was sub-par and needed to be replaced. It was the kind of job he would delegate to one of his many tech support agents but today it felt like a job he could do himself.

"Representative Phillips has been known for his radical views, and has been implicated as a supporter of at least two failed domestic terrorism plots. It's important that this threat is disposed of quietly and efficiently. No one wants this to go public." Michael clicked and a picture of a park filled the screen. "The mission will take place during a campaign rally at this park in Trenton New Jersey. Operations has laid out a brush pass, in the crowd after he has given his speech. The congressman will be injected with this toxin. The toxin will lie dormant for 48-72 hours before triggering a heart attack. Representative Philips has had a history of heart disease, therefore it won't be questioned by the media. Your specific assignments have been emailed to you. See wardrobe, ammunitions, review your mission file, and meet back in operations at 0700 tomorrow."

"Any questions?" Michael paused. "You're dismissed." He said. And the agents slowly got to their feet and began to file out of the room. Michael collected his tablet computer and paused to turn of the projector. Just before leaving the room Michael caught sight of Birkhoff out of the corner of his eye. Birkhoff was still seated in his chair, clutching his can of redbull and looking as though he might nod off any second.

"Birkhoff, you look like shit." Michael said as the door clicked shut behind the last agent.

"Do I?" Birkhoff's voice was distracted and Michael could tell his mind was somewhere else.

"You look like you could use some rest." Michael said.

"I havn't been sleeping well..." he said vaguely, then realizing perhaps he'd said too much he added "don't tell Amanda." Michael shook his head slightly indicating he wouldn't tell Amanda.

"Try a sleeping pill." Michael said shortly, as he continued to walk toward the door.

"Does this mission seem off?" Birkhoff asked suddenly changing the subject. Michael stopped walking just feet from the exit.

"What?"

"Where's the domestic terrorism evidence?" Birkhoff asked."Its not in the file." Michael was often caught off guard at Birkhoff's intelligence. Michael knew that Birkhoff had been off task during the briefing. He looked exhausted and bored and yet he had read the mission file faster than anyone else in the room and was now critically analyzing the mission. It was easy for people inside division to see him as a messenger, he simply got the information they requested and relayed it to them during missions. He took orders from Percy, Amanda, or Michael and carried them out with the snarky, sarcastic remarks everyone had come to expect. What Michael, and everyone else often forgot was that burried deep in his file was an IQ test where Birkhoff scored a 155 and every once in a while Birkhoff would say something that would remind Michael that he was not as simple as he seemed. Today was one of those days.

"Its classified."Michael grumbled.

"And its over kill… you had what? 10 agents in here? For a brush pass with a nerve toxin.? That's a single man opp. Two tops."

"Percy is concerned that Nikita may intervene." Michael answered gruffly. Birkhoff didn't question Nikita's involvement, rather he continued on to his third objection.

"and since when are we in the business of killing off elected officials."

"Enough," Michael said shortly, even though Michael knew this mission was a stretch for Division, he needed to convince Birkhoff that it was a legitimate operation. "This is a black operation, but it isn't a bad mission."

"So you're telling me you're suddenly alright with killing a congressman?" Birkhoff looked up at Michael with a critical eye. "You? The guy who twitches, like actually twitches, when Percy engages in the black. You're ok with this?"

"I'm on board with this mission Birkhoff. And you should be too." Michael said crossly.

"I don't know…" Birkhoff said.

"This isn't a choice, its an order." Michael snapped, he felt the sudden need to reassert himself as the superior. Birkhoff stared blankly back at him then nodded slightly. "Do I need to put another opp support agent on this mission?"

"No," Birkhoff breathed.

"Good, cause if I need to reassign I'd have to inform Amanda and Percy." Michael and Birkhoff both knew what Percy and Amanda would do if he told them Birkhoff had refused to carry out a mission, or even if he had questioned the mission.

"I'm fine." Birkhoff lied. "I'm just tired and stuffs getting to me. I'll sleep tonight and I'll be fine tomorrow."

"I need you on this Birkhoff." Michael answered, feeling a tinge of guilt for threatening to report him. He knew what that kind of talk would do to Birkhoff's nerves. "I'm on the ground for this one and I don't want any surprises."

"Of course you need me on this," Birkhoff said with half of his usual sharpness. "I'm the best."

* * *

"I talked to my CIA handler. He doesn't believe they would go after a congressman." Lena argued with Nikita from the safety of Nikita's loft.

"With all due respect your handler is wrong." Nikita answered as she began to type on her computer.

"Well maybe not," Lena said cautiously "he questioned your intelligence, and honestly I question it too. Its rocky." Lena continued.

"I have information that they are planning to assassinate Phillips, during a campaign rally in Trenton. Look for yourself." Nikita said as she pulled up the shell program she shared with Alex. Lena leaned in carefully and read the conversation, the intelligence was weak at best.

"All this intelligence, it comes from Alex." Lena said carefully. "Do you have anything else to corroborate?"

"Alex was tasked in a training exercise to determine the congressman's route in and out of the fundraiser. She also placed a bug on a senior Division agent and heard the specifics of a debrief."

Lena shook her head, "That's not in this conversation." She said pointing at the computer.

"It was in a previous debrief." Nikita said, and Lena could tell Nikita was humoring her. It wasn't in her nature to convince a team member to take part in a mission. But Nikita wanted a second on this mission and she didn't have a lot of other people she could ask.

"So no, only what Alex has heard." Lena said, more to herself than Nikita.

"Has she lead us wrong before?"

"No." Lena conceded. "But it could so easily be compromised." Lena didn't like relying on Nikita and Alex's intelligence completely. She'd felt safer running missions for the CIA, she trusted Forester to have _all_ the information she needed to be successful. Even though Nikita had run missions against Division successfully before she doubted Nikita had everything they would need to get in and out clean.

"If Alex were compromised, she'd be dead." Nikita said swiftly and Lena didn't argue with her.

Nikita had the advantage of being able to think like Division. She could anticipate their next move, she could avoid being cornered by relying on her training. Lena was less willing to take those risks, she didn't know how Division thought and she believed she could easily get cornered if she hadn't covered all her bases. Lena wanted every move planned out. Nikita planned her missions to a point but also relyed on quick thinking in the moment.

"Look, Division is rerouting resources toward this mission, and we aren't the only ones to hack the congressman's email, and his security director's email." Nikita repeated more of her evidence that the mission would be taking place Saturday.

Lena thought back to the night before when she had hacked the congressman's email. There was evidence that someone had hacked the email before her. It was highly secured, more secure than it should have been. Like they were reacting to some sort of intrusion.

"Suspecting it's been hacked before, doesn't prove that Division did the hacking. In fact, wouldn't it point to the opposite, that it was hacked by an amateur." Lena exclaimed. "I can get in and out of that email clean, he doesn't know I was in it. I would assume that anyone in Division would know how to do the same."

"That's true." Nikita said slowly. "Birkhoff could get in and out clean, but if the task was delegated to an inexperienced technician or even a recruit they might not cover their trail as well."

Lena felt her stomach squirm when Nikita mentioned Birkhoff so casually. She still hadn't told Nikita that Birkhoff was the man she loved inside Division.

"Ok, say for a moment that the intelligence is solid. Explain to me why Division would make a move against a congressman, that seems brash, even for them."

"Division is probably supporting his challenger, or maybe whoever would be on the republican ticket if he was killed. He could have just simply stepped on the wrong toes behind closed doors."

"Corporate Espionage?" Lena asked.

"Who knows, maybe he refused to vote a certain way or introduced a bill that would hurt one of the many companies that uses Division as a vehicle for corporate espionage. I don't know and we don't really have time to search through his entire voting record to find a motive."

"So in short, there are too many possible motives. We don't know why he's the target." Lena sat back, they didn't have a motive and they didn't have a clear mission plan, but even Lena had to admit, allowing the assanation of a congressman was not something she wanted on her watch. She couldn't sit back and watch that happen, maybe if someone like her had intervened when she was a child she wouldn't have lost her parents.

Nikita opened a map of the event on the computer, "So are you in or not?"

"Yea." Lena answered uncertainly. "If there is a credible threat I'm in. But you have to admit its reckless for them to hit a congressman."

"That's why they'll be creative." Nikita answered confidently. "Ready for a run threw?"

"Show me what you've got."

* * *

The clock read 4:23 am. _Shit. _Birkhoff thought. _Was three solid hours of sleep too much to ask? _He asked his now wide awake brain. He kicked at the blanket on his bed, as if that would make him comfortable enough to fall back asleep. Birkhoff couldn't remember a time when he wasn't an insomniac. That trouble went back even further than his involvement with Percy. It used to be the time he did his best blogging and computer hacking when he was on the outside. He used to feel so inspired when he was running on his twenty eighth consecutive hour of being awake. He hadn't minded it that much back then, at least he was productive, but now it was different.

It was always late at night, when everything around him was quiet and still, the memories, like ghosts would haunt him. The more exhausted he would become the louder the ghosts would be. Tonight was the same, tonight the ghost's topic was Claire. That had been the topic since the night after they broke up.

He got up out of bed and went to the living room to turn on the TV. He used the TV to try to silence them, a video game would silence them, but that would also keep him awake. He flopped on the leather couch, the same couch he'd shared with Claire so many evenings. _No, _he snapped at himself _Don't think about that. _

He flicked through the channels until he ended up on one of the Japanese challenge shows. He watched one of the contestants fall off one of the structures and into a lake, the announcers talked about how it was the most difficult course ever designed. _Divisions got a least a dozen agents who could set course records on that thing. _He thought. He watched for a few more minutes before eventually laying his head down on the pillow and closing his eyes. _You're a fool for letting her go._ The ghost said. _Shut up, _he argued with himself _I did what I had to do to say alive. _But the ghost didn't rest. _You acted out of fear, you are a coward. _

He forced his eyes open and tried to focus on the TV again. Now it was on commercial and some silly man was bragging about his identity theft protection service. "I'm Doug McPearson and this isn't a joke, that's my real social security number on the billboard behind me. I'm not afraid of Identity theft because I'm insured by…"

"Don't tempt me Doug…" Birkhoff growled at the TV. Maybe he could make a late night project out of emptying Doug's bank account and crashing his company's server. He debated it for a few minutes, it would probably take about 30 minutes, 32 minutes, he'd have to allow time for his laptop to boot up… he shut it down earlier tonight. But that would mean there was no chance of falling asleep before he'd need to get up to report to Division. _Not worth it tonight._ He decided.

The challenge came back on the TV and Birkhoff watched as the men crossed what looked like children's monkey bars, except they were at a sharp angle.

He shut his eyes again but made sure he continued to listen to the voices of the TV announcers in the background. _Maybe I should have chosen a show that was in english. _He thought vaguely before the ghosts returned. _You're a coward because you ran from love. You got close to someone and you got scared. _

Birkhoff rolled over onto his side, _that's not true. _He said over and over to himself. _I broke it off because she lied, and she put me at risk with Division. It was my only choice. _He argued with himself.

_You could have forgiven the lies, you could have used her plan to get out of Division, you could have had a life. But you were afraid of the risk._

He dragged the blanket off the back of the sofa and tried again to get comfortable. _I'm not going to risk my life for her mission._ Of that much he was sure.

_One day you will walk into Division and you won't leave. She was right about that. One day Amanda will get her way, Percy will find a tech expert that's better than you, or you'll talk back to Roan and he'll just plain shoot you between the eyes. _

"I will never talk back to Roan." Birkhoff said out loud.

_You've already put yourself on Death Row, Seymour, at least you could be there for a reason. You could be there because you are giving yourself a chance at life; A chance at happiness; A chance at love._

_And there is no way she'd take me back after what I said to her. _He thought.

_Ain't that the truth! _The ghost said. _You fucked this up beyond repair. _

**Thanks for reading, Please Review! I kinda love the last bit with Birkhoff up all night. I could see it so clearly in my head. I hope he didn't come of as schizophrenic, that wasn't what I was going for. **


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry for the late update, I started a new job. My first real life, grown up, actual paycheck, benefits, I've gone to school for six years for this… job. And, right now things are a little hectic. So I'm not sure how quickly the next update will be up but I'm hoping things will settle down in a couple weeks and I'll get back into a routine for updating. Thanks for your understanding! I hope you enjoy the chapter, I really liked writing it. **

**Just so you all know, this chapter takes place in October, during a period of time when Division is well aware of Nikita but before Michael turns. I make a point of it being cold during this chapter, if you think that's unrealistic in October, then clearly you don't live anywhere near me or New Jersey, which is where this mission takes place. **

11:15 AM

It was unseasonably cold for October, Lena had thrown a black wool coat over her sweater dress. She thought the outfit had been a great idea before she left her Manhattan apartment but now that she was standing in line to go through security at the rally in the park, she was freezing. The wind was cutting through her black leggings as if she hadn't worn them at all. Somehow her knee high boots weren't fairing much better, they seemed to be creating a wind tunnel that blasted cold air up under her coat.

She always hoped she wouldn't have to fire a weapon during her mission but today she prayed extra hard that she wouldn't need to; she didn't want to take off her mittens. _What idiot plans a rally in a park, in New Jersey, in October._ She thought angrily. She pulled her hat down over her ears, she'd done her hair this morning but by now, with this wind, it was a lost cause. She tried not to look over at Nikita few lines over and only a few people away from getting through security. She knew Nikita would look cool, calm, and collected. She was like a vampire, she probably didn't even feel the cold, Lena thought bitterly. Nikita had thrown on a sheer sweater, leather jacket, and a fashionable hat and scarf combination. _She makes this look too easy_. Lena thought.

She moved up toward the Security guard and he motioned for her to open her bag, Lena complied and the he prodded the contents of her bag with a metal rod. Her weapon was secured tightly beneath her coat. The security guard turned to the next person in line and Lena made her way through the gates and followed the crowd.

She pulled her blutooth from her pocket and turned it on as she made her way to the back edge of the crowd that was gathering around the stage. She slipped it onto her ear where it was easily concealed under the wild tangle of windswept curls.

"See anything?" Nikita asked.

"Not yet" Lena answered through the blutooth.

The mission plan was simple, Nikita was going to talk her way into the press area so she could head off any attack. After the congressman finished his speech she would tell the congressman there was an attack in progress and she would remove him from the park. Lena's task was to watch the crowd, find the division agents, and if possible intercept the attack. She wasn't sure what she was going to see. From what she knew of Division, they liked to be invisible. She didn't know why Nikita had decided to have Lena watch the crowd, Nikita knew their tactic's better, and she could identify more of their agents. But Nikita had taken point, and Lena was alright with that. Lena didn't know what to say to sweet talk her way into the congressman's inner circle in a matter of minutes but Nikita seemed confident that gaining the congressman's trust wouldn't be a problem.

"Entering press area now."

"Good Luck" Lena said, but the other end of the communication device was silent. Lena scanned the crowd for anyone looking suspicious but it was difficult to pick anyone out of the crowd. Everyone was bundled up in hats and scarves and it was difficult to tell one bundled up marshmallow from the next. Lena held up her phone and took a few pictures of the crowd and sent them on to the CIA but she was doubtful facial recognition would work with all the winter attire. She gently pulled her own scarf up over her nose, not only to block out the cold but also to hopefully thwart any of Division's facial recognition software.

She watched as the crowd grew larger and larger until a man Lena didn't recognize took the stage to provide an introduction for the congressman. Just as the man on stage began to speak sje noticed someone out of the corner of her eye who was out of the ordinary, he, like her, was paying much more attention to the crowd than to the speaker.

Lena carefully pushed her way through the people and crossed just behind the suspicious looking man. She slipped one hand into his black carhart jacket pocket and lifted the man's phone. Before he had any idea it was missing she disappeared back into the sea of people.

She carefully concealed herself within the crowd as she paged through the recent calls on the phone. None of the numbers were saved in the phone. She typed three of the first numbers into her phone and sent them to the CIA for identification. Within a few seconds they were returned as a Chinese Restaurant and two unknown numbers. She took a deep breath and dialed the first of the unknown numbers. It went straight to voice mail. She dialed the second number and engaged the mute function, an angry voice answered. "What?"

More startling than the rude greeting was what Lena heard behind her. The man she had called on the cell phone was standing close enough that she heard him both through the phone and against the raging autumn wind. "What's wrong?" the man barked on the other end.

Lena hung up the phone and cautiously turned around behind her, a man in his mid twenties, dressed in a black leather jacket grumbled to himself as he put his phone back in his pocket. She took a picture with her cell phone and moved back to her original position in the mass of people.

She then turned her attention to the man's recent received calls list, the previous day he'd received only one call on the phone. Like the other numbers it wasn't saved. She followed the same procedure and sent the number to the CIA for identification, and like the others it came back as unknown. Lena pressed send on the man's phone and engaged the mute function.

"There'd better be a dam good reason you're breaking communication silence!" A smoky voice that Lena knew so well growled back at her. Lena slammed the simple flip phone shut and snapped open the back and removed the memory card. She dropped shell of the phone on the ground as she walked quickly away.

Nikita, there's a team here." Lena hissed into her blutooth.

* * *

11:00 AM

Michael and a female agent weaved between the satellite trucks before stopping at a local news van. He stood behind one of the men from the tv station and waited for him to finish dragging his equipment from vehicle before drawing attention to himself.

"Mr. Sawyer." Michael said loudly.

"Oh!" The cameraman gasped as he turned quickly to see Michael waiting for him. "You're late… I… I thought you might not be coming."

"You have my press pass." Michael said.

"Yes, I do." The man answered nervously. As he reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a lanyard with an ID attached. Michael took the lanyard and handed it to the agent waiting behind him. He nodded slightly at the agent and the woman slipped the lanyard around her neck and walked away.

"Ok, so all is forgiven with that little tax missunderstanding?" the camera man sputtered.

Michael didn't answer the man's question. He glanced over at the driver's seat of the van then back to the camera man. "I'll watch the rally from here." He said as he climbed into the driver's seat.

"Uh, ok… um the audio can be broadcast through the 106.1 FM on the radio." The camera man stuttered as he reached over Michael for the controls on the radio. Michael rolled his eyes, before pushing the man off him.

"I'll figure it out." He growled and the man backed away from the van.

"Ok, well let me know if you need anything." The camera man said as he backed away nervously and went back to setting up his equipment. The vans were parked on a small hill overlooking the rally, it was from this vantage point that the local news affiliates would gather their footage. From the inside of the van, Michael could see nearly the entire park. He needed a good vantage point because they lacked the a video surveillance system. Birkhoff would be able to piece together the local TV station footage, campaign cameras, and the one or two security cameras that had been set up but there would be holes.

Michael sat in the comfort of the heated van watching the video surveillance that Birkhoff was uploading to his phone. He waited there for almost an hour before anything out of the ordinary occurred. He noticed one of his agents was using his cell phone to contact another agent, during missions he monitored all his agent's cell phone usage. He thought about relaying the anomaly to Birkhoff but then dismissed the thought. Then his own phone showed an incoming call, from the same agent who had just been using his phone. "There'd better be a dam good reason you're breaking communication silence!" He growled but there was no response. The line went dead. Michael called the phone back, no answer. He didn't want to break radio silence. Finally he relaxed, perhaps the agent had only pocket dialed him, it was a naïve and weak excuse but it was possible. Anyway nothing appeared out of the ordinary, better not to raise the alarm over nothing.

It wasn't long before his ear bud did raise the alarm. "Visual on Nikita, Stage left in the press area."

"Birkhoff, confirm!" Michael shouted into his communication unit. He jumped out of the van to get a better look at the stage. He pulled a small set of binoculars out of his coat pocket and looked down into the press area but he couldn't see what his agent saw. That didn't mean she wasn't there, she knew how to stay hidden. After a few moments he heard Birkhoff in his ear.

"I don't have her on video feed, Michael."

Michael stood on the hillside staring at the press area for a minute before he walked back up the hill a few paces and planted himself behind one of the TV station's monitors. The camera was panning the crowd for some good reaction shots during the speech. It moved in close to a group of attractive young women, and among this small group of woman was one girl with a pale pink hat and black coat. It was the woman from the museum a few months earlier.

"Birkhoff, I need facial recognition on a woman. North end of the crowd, center, pink hat, scarf, and black coat." He watched on the monitor as the girl moved out of the frame.

He waited for Birkhoff to confirm what he already knew, that was the girl from the Vienna months ago, the museum before that, and Chicago. Now she was working with Nikita, and Nikita was in the park. He reached up slowly with his right hand and activated his ear bud to broadcast to the entire team. "Alright team, change of plans."

* * *

12:15 PM

"Visual on Nikita, Stage left in the press area." Birkhoff heard over his headphones jarring him back from his daydream.

"Birkhoff, Confirm!" Michael barked and Birkhoff jumped up from his chair to give orders.

"Bring up any feed the covers the press area! Now!" Birkhoff shouted at his operational support agents. He gulped down two swallows of red bull to get him going again.

He searched the five views he had on the monitors in the front of the room, he didn't see her. "Anyone have eyes on her?" He asked sharply as he rechecked the images. All his agents remained quiet. The half covered faces were making any facial identification software less than useful. "You, back that feed up five minutes and make sure we didn't miss her." Birkhoff yelled at one of the junior agents.

He reached up to his headphones and pressed a button on the right hand side. "I don't have her on camera, Michael."

Birkhoff paced anxiously next to his station as he stared at the phone on his desk. He hated to involve Percy if it wasn't needed. But, he had orders to call him if any report of Nikita was mentioned over the coms. He sat back down at his station and pressed the first speed dial.

"Percy." he answered the phone with an eerie calmness.

"An agent may have spotted Nikita at the rally." Birkhoff reported, Percy hung up the phone without saying another word and Birkhoff knew he would be in the operations center any second. "Keep Checking!" He shouted over the half dozen heads crouched over their computer stations. He pulled up the realtime feed of the rally and began to look anywhere near the press area for Nikita. She couldn't have gotten too far by now.

"Birkhoff, I need facial recognition on a woman. Back edge of the crowd, center, pink hat and black coat." Michael snapped suddenly

"Find her!" Birkhoff bellowed at the agents in operations. He reached up to his right headphone and pressed the button to speak to Michael. "Give me 30 seconds, Michael." He said then shut down his com. "Now, now, now," He snapped his fingers impatiently with each word.

"I've got her!" One of the agents on the far side of the room confirmed.

"Run it!" Birkhoff ordered the agent. A few seconds later a window appeared on his screen, and only his screen, it was a till photo of the woman in question..Claire. He instinctively shut his eyes. His world was crashing in on top of him. He'd knew this day was coming, but that didn't prepare him for it. His mind felt numb, all he could think was her name… he couldn't speak, he couldn't breathe, and he didn't hear the sound of the keys on his computer as his fingers continued to peck at them. When Birkhoff opened his eyes a few seconds later a small unassuming black window was open in the lower right corner of the screen. This tiny rectangle contained the first communication they'd had in months. 'It's a trap. Run. –b'

He gulped as he looked at the words he'd sent and the enormity of what he'd just done hit him. He'd done it again, he'd chosen her over his orders. He started to think clearly, he realized he wasn't breathing and he was light headed. Then he took a breath and found that he could breathe again even if it was in quick shallow breaths. He cleared his throat slightly as he felt the muscles relax in his neck. His shaking hand reached out for his Redbull on the desk and he heard the first clear thought that had come into his mind since he'd seen Claire's picture flash up on the screen. _It was time he looked after someone besides himself. _

_So this is what betraying Division feels like._ He thought vaguely. Before, the mere thought of disobeying division had caused a near panic attack and heart palpations. He was surprised that actually committing the act that he was so fearful of had left him with an unexpected feeling. He'd done what he felt was right, and he was at peace with his action. He didn't know what to call this new emotion.

He quickly brushed this train of thought from his mind, she wasn't safe, he'd only warned her, he needed to do more.

_Evacuation Route _he thought suddenly and he opened the mission file. But the same moment he opened the file two things happened. First a large window flashed across the screen, the 911 center had received a bomb threat for the rally. And secondly Percy burst through the doors of Operations.

"Where is she?" Percy barked

"We don't have her on video yet. We're combing every feed." Birkhoff answered.

"Don't let her get away!" He snapped.

"Sir, The rally just received a bomb threat they're going to clear the park any second." Birkhoff reported to Percy and he heard Michael beginning to send instructions to his agents.

Birkhoff turned on his microphone and relayed his information to Michael "Uh… Michael." He interjected "Affirmative on the ID, bring her in, I've sent a picture to your phones. But Police just received a bomb threat for the rally. They're going to clear the park any second." He sent a photo of Claire to each of the team's cell phones, but he choose a photo of very poor quality and only showed half her face.

Percy began to pace angrily at the front of the room. "That's her exit strategy." He grumbled.

"Yep." Birkhoff said in confirmation, he was pleased that Percy had gone to the front of the room leaving his computer free from prying eyes. He returned to the mission file and found the evacuation routes. He scanned down the page until he got to the route with the highest rate of success. This was the one he would recommend to an operative if something went awry.

Next, he found a transit schedule for Trenton New Jersey and looked up the next available train. He erased his browser history and returned to the small black rectangle in the right corner of his screen. He quickly typed the instructions of the best route out of the park and the next train departure. He closed the window and pushed back slightly from his station.

All around him his agents were combing through the security footage of the hundreds of political supporters pouring out from the rally. Percy was hunched over another station two rows in front of Birkhoff micromanaging Birkhoff's team. For once, he didn't care.

He reached up with his left hand to brush the hair out of his face, then he readjusted his wire framed glasses. As he held his glasses he noticed the tremor that was apparent in his hand. He laid his fingers back down on the keyboard to hide the fact they were shaking. He pulled up security footage around the rally and began to pretend to look for Nikita and Claire.

He heard Amanda casually push the door to operations open behind him. He could tell it was her, there was a controlled way that her heels clicked along the concrete floors of Division that announced her presence long before she entered a room.

"Problem with your mission?" She asked Percy as she walked right past Birkhoff's station.

"She's using a bomb threat as an exit strategy." Percy scoffed to Amanda.

"Effective." Amanda said in her usual slightly apathetic tone.

"She hasn't won the battle yet." Percy growled at Amanda.

"No, but she seems to have evaded you're trap." She said slowly. "Imagine all these resources, diverted to this facade of an elimination mission."

"Is there anything else?" He asked. Birkhoff saw that Percy's eyes were blazing dangerously. He was glad he wasn't where Amanda was standing.

"No." Amanda answered evasively, but Percy seems satisfied and turned away from her and back to the screen that was occupying him.

Amanda turned on her heels and walked away from Percy. Birkhoff immersed himself in his monitor, trying to appear that he hadn't overheard anything. He waited for her heels to announce that she had left the room but she paused, just behind his chair.

"Is Nikita working alone?" she asked Birkhoff.

Every muscle in his body tensed, his mouth went dry, and his breath caught in his chest. "No." he croaked out. Then he bravely looked up at Amanda, he was slightly relieved to find that Amanda wasn't watching him, she was watching the monitors around the room.

"And…" she said as she waited for Birkhoff to offer more information.

Birkhoff pressed two keys and the photo of Claire he'd given to the team appeared on the screen. "We don't have a name." he said.

Amanda glanced at the photograph, then he heard every step as she left the operations center. He felt his body relax slightly as he heard the door click shut behind her. Amanda was malicious, manipulative, and as much as he hated to admit it, brilliant. He couldn't out smart her, of that much he was sure. His strategy had always been to stay out of her way and under her radar.

A message flashed up on the screen from one of his agents. 'It's been 10 minutes. No sign of Nikita on any of the feeds.' The agent wrote.

Birkhoff rolled his eyes, he wasn't going to give up the search for Nikita, not after 10 minutes and not while Percy was in the room. 'KEEP LOOKING' he wrote angrily and slammed his finger onto the enter key.

He relaxed slightly with every second that passed while he was looking through the security footage. Amanda's presence had unnerved him and the calm that he felt initially after helping Claire had all but disappeared. But every second that passed got Claire closer to the train station, and he had his entire team searching security footage at the park. He knew Claire was long gone from the park.

"We've lost any trail of Nikita." Michael's voice rang out clearly in the operations center. Percy threw the technician's coffee cup that had been sitting on the desk. In a few quick keystrokes Birkhoff ordered a facilities cleanup.

"Damit." Percy cried as he pressed his fingers into his hips as he paced back and forth in the aisle.

Birkhoff waited for Percy to make the call he so desperately wanted. _Bring your team in. _He thought _Say it! Michael, bring your team in._ But another call on the radio rang out over the speakers.

"I've got eyes on the second target." Percy stopped next to Birkhoff's monitor and refocused on the accomplice. Birkhoff forced himself into operation mode, he located the GPS tracker of the agent that reported the citing and located all security cameras around the area.

"She's running." Percy said as he pointed to the three green dots marking the Division agents on the street map. "Where's she going?" he wondered quietly. Then he stood up and Birkhoff put the map on one of the monitors at the front of the room. "Where's she going? Find out!" Percy yelled at the operations agents.

Birkhoff heard a blaze of fingers on the keyboards, his own fingers were included, though his search wouldn't provide anything useful. It wasn't more than a few seconds before one of the agents shouted over the sound of the keys.

"There's a train station! Three blocks up!" an agent shouted above the clicking of the keyboards.

_FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! _Birkhoff screamed inside his head. Birkhoff felt his throat close up again, he struggled to suck in air.

"When's the next train leave?" Percy asked.

"Four minutes." One of the agents yelled.

Percy turned to Birkhoff. "It's too close, she won't make it." Birkhoff lied, his chest was so tight he could hardly get the words out.

"Shut it down." He said coldly.

Birkhoff stared up at Percy. "I… I don't think I can." He stuttered as he forced his fingers to begin typing. "There isn't enough time."

Percy leaned in close to Birkhoff's ear and whispered just so he could hear, "Shut. It. down. That's an order."

* * *

12:18 PM

"I don't have her on video feed, Michael." Lena heard Birkhoff's voice respond to the call to find Nikita in the press area.

_He's alive._ She thought to herself, she was relieved when she heard his voice. She was glad Division hadn't put them together, obviously if they had, he'd be dead. She clicked a button on her blutooth and returned to the channel she shared with Nikita. "Nikita, an agents spotted you. Birkhoff couldn't confirm with video but they're on you."

"Copy that."

"I'm pulling the plug." Lena said as she pulled her phone from her coat pocket.

"NO!" Nikita hissed, "Not yet."

Lena rolled her eyes but kept her phone in her hands. She resisted the urge to argue with Nikita. "Fine, but if I hear anything else…" but just as she said the words she heard her blutooth switch to the other channel and Michael's voice rang out clearly.

"Birkhoff, I need facial recognition on a woman. Back edge of the crowd, center, pink hat and black coat."

Lena grabbed her pale pink hat and pulled it down over her forehead and started to slowly push her way through the crowd toward the exit. She tugged the scarf back in place, it had fallen down and she hadn't noticed.

"Give me 30 seconds Michael." Birkhoff responded. She hadn't gotten more than thirty feet from her original position when she felt the phone in her hands buzz.

She looked down to see an incoming message using the secure chat room that had been silent for months. '_it's a trap. run.- B'_

She didn't question his message, she only reacted. "Nikita it's a trap! I'm calling it. Head for the extraction point."

"No, were going to stay with the mission!" Nikita shot back

"No, WE aren't." Lena said as she sent an email from her phone. "My guy on the inside just contacted me. It's a trap."

Lena followed her email with a text message that read 'There's a bomb in the park! Get out now!'

"30 seconds or less…" Lena turned and walked straight at the exit, but it was still far away.

"Are you sure?" Nikita questioned. In reality it was too late, Lena had already put the exit plan into motion.

"I'm sure!" Lena said just before she heard her blutooth click back to the Division channel. Michael's voice rang in her ear.

"Alright, team, listen up. Change of plans." Michael announced. "I want the North team to take the exits, South and East teams take the press area and find Nikita, West team you're with me! Targets are Nikita and a second operative, Birkhoff will forward her picture to your phones. You know your orders for Nikita, and I want the girl alive."

"Uh… Michael." Birkhoff interjected. "Affirmative on the ID, bring her in, I've sent a picture to your phones. But Police just received a bomb threat for the rally. They're going to clear the park any second."

The next thing Lena heard was the sound of hundreds of cell phones receiving the same text message. As people pulled out their cell phones and read her message, panic ensued and the entire crowd began to run for the exit.

Lena ripped off her hat and threw it onto the ground, if they were looking for a pink hat it would throw them off for a second. Her phone buzzed again, 'North gate exit, go to the train station, 12:36 Blue line, get off at the first exit.-B' She pushed her way through the crowd at the exit and kept moving.

Almost ten minutes later she was two blocks from the park trying to hide herself in a crowd of people. Her blutooth had been earily silent for a few minutes, she could only assume she was out of range to pick up Division's communications. She decided to call Nikita to make sure she got out of the park clean.

"Did you get the senator?"She asked Nikita

"You mean congressman? Yes." Nikita announced in her ear. "Where are you?" Nikita asked.

"Trying to get lost in the crowd. Nikita, they I.D.'d me there are agents after both of us."

"I've left the park." Nikita said. "I've shaken the four on my tail."

"I think they're still on me." Lena said nervously. Even though she thought she was out of range she felt like she was being followed and she was much too exposed for comfort.

"You were right." Nikita said quietly. "It was an ambush. And I walked us right into it."

"At least the congressman's safe, he didn't become collateral damage." Lena said _as_ she hung up the phone.

She tried to stay with the crowd but she found herself walking faster than anyone around her. She was careful to stay in the middle of the sidewalks and stay out of the view of street cameras, just like Birkhoff had taught her. Even though she tried to stay as hidden as possible, her Blutooth rang out in her ear again.

"I've got eyes on the second target." She heard. She looked across the street to her right to find a man with his hand held to his right ear staring straight at her. She didn't wait for him to get orders, she ran. She pushed her way through the crowded side walk and ran toward the train station.

She darted across traffic and through the crowds as fast as she could. She covered the three blocks between her and the station faster than she expected. As she climbed the last flight up the stairs of the station she took a second to look behind her. She could see two men following her, but they were far enough behind. She might just make the train before they got up to the platform.

The clock in the train station read 12:34. She would make it. She thought.

She thought wrong. The doors were shutting just as she reached the platform. She ran forward and caught one of the doors with one hand. She pulled with all the strength she could find but it wouldn't budge, it wouldn't reopen for her. "No! No please!" She squeaked as she tried to force her boot into the opening no larger than two inches between the two doors. But even her boot couldn't keep the doors open. She felt her eyes begin to prickle, as she realized she was in real trouble. She released the doors and they slammed together, locking out her escape route.

She turned around and searched the train station desperately for an exit. Although her feet remained planted firmly next to the train her eyes darted all over the platform. She didn't notice that all around her people on the platform were staring at her, some were even pointing. But Lena didn't notice because those people didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was finding an exit and avoiding the men in the black trench coats. She found a second stairway, she ran as fast as she could toward the stairs, but when she reached the stairs she skidded to a hault. There was another man in a black coat running up them. When he raised his face she saw, it was Michael. She turned and ran again crashing into a large group of commuters gathered on the platform. The exits were covered, the train was still sitting in the station unmoving, this blocked her from crossing the tracks and exiting on the other side. There was no way out. He'd led her into a trap.

"Nikita! I'm trapped!" she shrieked into her blutooth but she knew it wouldn't help Nikita was far away and in no position to help her. She took off the blutooth and shouted right into the microphone, making sure Nikita heard her over the background noise of the station. "Nikita there's a box! Hidden under your dresser! Give it to Michael!" she spat, then she flung the earpiece into the crevice between the train and the platform.

"Federal Agent! Don't Move!" From 50 feet away Michael shouted with his gun drawn and aimed at her. All around her the people on the platform shrieked, ducked, and scattered.

Lena turned slowly to face him. She left her hands visible at her sides. She didn't make a move for her gun, if she did, he'd shoot her. His steps were slow and even as he approached her, stopping just ten feet from her. She made a point to lock eyes with him. It was her last attempt at control, she wouldn't show him fear. She knew what he was going to do, he was going to do his job.

Two men appeared behind him with guns drawn. Michael lowered his gun a few inches and gave an almost imperceptible nod to one of the men.

The man to Michael's left stepped forward and thrust a taser rod between her ribs.

**Thanks for reading! **

**Please PLEASE Review! I would love to see some new reviewers join my favorite veteran reviewers (Who I appreciate immensely DON'T STOP!)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Oh…my gosh…sorry for the ridiculously long wait between updates! I blame my job and my new fascination with the website pinterest. Ok, as much as I LOVE the new season and the huge role that my beloved Birkhoff is playing, this story is still not set in the new season. Sorry. **

**Welcome to the new readers! Welcome back to all those who took the summer off of fanfiction reading. I'm glad you're back, you were missed! Hi again to those of you who have been faithfully reading. The hits traffic on this story has absolutely gone through the roof after Season 2 premiered. Every time I check it I feel more and more guilty for not updating sooner. So here it is, a long time coming, Chapter 15!**

Birkhoff pushed his chair away from his work station and stomped out of Operations. He couldn't watch the live feed. He let the door slam behind him and stumbled down to his own private lair. He threw himself down on his beaten up leather couch, but he missed. He grazed the arm of the couch before landing on the cold cement floor. He stayed there… that's where he deserved to be anyway.

If he was a drug user he'd get high. If he was an alcoholic he'd run to the corner liquor store and cash out his latest pay check. This was the time when you wanted to numb the pain. It was this type of despair that sent people to do stupid selfish things. But he wasn't one of those types of people, Birkhoff retreated back into himself.

He'd thought he'd finally won a battle with Division. Sending Claire the escape route was a victory for him. For a few short moments he'd dared to think they didn't control him. _Wrong,_ he screamed to himself. Why would he think he had any choices left? But then again for a few precious minutes he had defied Division, hadn't he? And it wasn't frightening, not in those ten or fifteen minutes when he'd thought he'd succeeded, it was brave. No, he couldn't use the word brave because any shred of bravery had been whipped out completely by his next action. Even faster than he'd double crossed Division he'd betrayed her. If what he did first was brave, then the English language didn't have a word to describe what he did next. Despicable? Self-serving? Cowardly? None of them really seemed to fit the situation.

He'd stopped the train.

He'd helped them catch her.

All because for one second, Percy threatened his life.

And now, she would lose hers.

He hated Percy, he had visions of running up to the armory and checking out a gun and shooting him right in Operations. It might even work. Who would stop him? The guards would let him pass, his own techs would be seated at their workstations, and heck, if Amanda was in operations she'd probably step aside and let him have the shot! Of course she'd have him cancelled as punishment but would it really matter?

Slowly the anger subsided and made way for the emotions that had initially thrown him to the floor, regret and dismay. He couldn't believe the person he'd become. He'd always been selfish, he had to be, no one was watching his back so he needed to watch out for himself above all other things. That changed when he met Claire, when they were together he watched out for her more than himself.

Or maybe, he hadn't.

No, he hadn't. He had truly been a coward by anyone's definition.

He didn't know how long he sat on the floor; he was unaware of the passing of time. Pop-ups flashed on the computer across the room, beeps announced new emails, the desk phone rang then went to voicemail all without Birkhoff moving off the floor. No one came looking for him, if he'd been thinking clearly he would have expected them to come after him. But no one disturbed his cocoon of self loathing.

The nearly constant vibration of his right jean pocket eventually won him over. He pulled the cell phone out of his pocket, the caller ID read Michael's number. He pressed ignore. " Nine Missed Calls" the phone read just before Birkhoff put it back in his pocket. A few seconds later the phone buzzed again. He pulled the phone from his pocket again and he distractedly pressed what he thought was the same button, but like the couch before he missed and accidentally answered the call.

"Birkhoff?" He heard Michaels voice snap. He held the phone far away from his face, he didn't want to talk to Michael. But he also couldn't really hang up on him either. "BIRKHOFF!" He heard him shout.

"What, Michael?" He finally answered.

"I've been calling you all afternoon!" Michael shouted angrily.

Birkhoff couldn't even fake interest. "What do you want." He said dismissively.

"I have the suspect's cell phone. But it's encrypted. I need you to break it."

"Fine." He answered shortly.

"It needs to be done now." The voice on the other end of the line said. "It's probably got the location of Lauriet's key and-" he hesitated a moment. "And other classified equipment."

Birkhoff sat silent on the other end of the line. He didn't care.

"It's a top priority." He said conclusively.

"Bring it down." Birkhoff said, Michael could bring the cell phone down, he still wasn't going to get off the floor.

"I'm not at Division! I'm at the holding facility in Harding. You need to come get it."

A new emotion entered Birkhoff's body, annoyance. "Then I'll see it when you get here!" He sneered.

"Birkhoff, I can't leave the prisoner unguarded just so you can sit on your ass in your little layer." He growled. "Come here and get it!"

_Unguarded…_ something in that word startled Birkhoff. "The prisoner's alive?"

"For now." Michael said. "Dead people don't talk"

Birkhoff hesitated a moment, there might be a chance to turn his decision up in Operations around. He didn't want to sound too eager.

"Alright." He conceded. "I'll come this time, but don't expect this special treatment to continue." The line went dead and Birkhoff shoved the phone into his shirt pocket.

A few moments later he'd secured the keys to a Division vehicle and was on his way toward the holding facility an hour away from operations. It was plenty of time to form a plan but only if there was one to be formed. He didn't know what he was walking into. If he saw an exit he'd make it happen, but what were the odds?

He pulled up alongside of what appeared to be an old abandoned store. The forgotten building was much more than it seemed. It was a fully fortified bunker and the glass in the store front had been replaced with bullet proof glass. The entire property was completely encased in the best security system he could install. He slipped around to the back of the building where he found a Division vehicle parked. He slid his fingers into a crack near the foundation and found the call button. It was only a moment before Michael appeared in the doorway.

"Take your time next time!" Michael growled as he pushed the door open just far enough for Birkhoff to enter.

"Aw, You're welcome. I love to trapes out to dumb fuck nowhere to do your job for you!" Birkhoff snapped sarcastically.

"My job!" He snapped as he turned back to a stair case and clobbered down the wooden slats to the basement of the building.

"Yea, I train your recruits to decript a cell phone. Seriously dude, you need to audit my class." Birkhoff said as he followed.

"If it was a regular phone I would decript it." Michael said as he reached the bottom of the stairs and led Birkhoff into the main room of the holding facility.

The main room looked like a typical college male's apartment. Half of it was occupied by miss matched furniture and a large flat screen TV. The other side of the room contained two collapsible tables made into computer work stations. Birkhoff settled himself in front of one of the work stations.

Michael handed him the cell phone then grabbed his own coat off the couch.

"Where are you going?" Birkhoff asked nervously.

"I'm hungry." Michael answered. "And you didn't bring anything." Birkhoff looked at the clock for the first time since Claire had been caught. It was nearly eight.

"Aren't you supposed to…" Birkhoff stopped, this was the break he needed. "Interrogate her, or something?"

"I have, she won't talk." He said as he slipped on the coat and turned to the door. "Decrypt that phone, I need more to go on. I'll be back in fifteen. Call me if anything comes up."

Birkhoff watched on the monitors as Michael's SUV turned out onto the deserted county highway. He had all he could do to sit in his chair for two minutes and allow the cameras to record him working so he could loop the feed. After the two minutes were up he went to adjacent room and opened the heavy solid metal door.

Claire was sitting in a simple wooden chair in the middle of the empty room. She didn't even look over at the door when he opened it. Her curly brown hair hung lose, obscuring her face from view.

"Claire," He said and he saw her turn her head a few degrees to see him. She still didn't turn to him she only saw him out of the corner of her eye. "I can get you out of here, but we have to move now. Michael's gone to get food, he'll be back any second."

Claire didn't move. "Come on!" He said louder.

"Last time you 'helped' me, you led me into a trap." She said slow and cool. She turned away. Birkhoff was momentarily taken aback, she'd never spoken to him in that way before.

"No, that was a terrible mistake." He argued but she didn't seem to hear him

"You led me right into the train station and stalled the train. You backed me into a corner. You made sure I had no escape." She said in the same cold tone. "Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice… you won't fool me twice."

"It wasn't supposed to be a trap. It was a solid escape route! But they figured it out. There wasn't enough time and he threatened me. He'd have killed me right there in my chair if I didn't do what he ordered!"

"So now, they'll kill me here in this chair."

"Yeah. Unless you come with me now." he hissed impatiently

"No." she answered. Finally she glanced up at him with both eyes, but then she dropped her gaze back to the wall on the otherside of the room. He could see one eye was slightly red and a bruise was beginning to show. He forced the thought from his mind but if Michael had laid a hand on Claire, he'd never forgive him.

"Look, I lie to everyone, you know that." He said calmly, "everyone but you. People don't trust me. I get that. And I'm fine with them not trusting me… they shouldn't." He paused his speech but walked all the way into the room until he was close enough to reach out and touch her. "But, I need your trust and I will spend every moment of the rest of our lives trying to build that back."

She finally looked up and met his eyes but a second later she dropped her gaze

"I Lo—"

"Stop…" she interrupted. "Don't go there…" She sighed slightly but remained quiet, then she glanced down at the handcuff that held her wrist tightly to the chair.

"Will you come with me?" He asked softly after a few second. She nodded slightly then Birkoff handed her a thin metal screwdriver. "Pick it." "I'll look for the key but Michael's probably got it." Birkhoff left the room and quickly packed up his laptop and Claire's phone. He tossed the strap of his messenger bag over his head and turned just in time to see Claire emerging from the interrogation room. She scanned the new room quickly and then darted across it toward the bathroom.

"Seriously!" He shouted after her "We're escaping here, I'd kinda like to leave!"

"You have no idea!" She yelled back across the room. He laughed slightly as he turned back to the monitors on the table. One set of monitors showed the looped feed of an empty parking lot, he set a timer for the security cameras to stop the loop in two minutes. That would give him enough time to get out with Claire, and it would catch Michael's vehicle entering the parking lot when he returned. The other set showed a true live video of what was happening outside the building.

"Ready?" He asked as he saw her emerge from the bathroom.

"Yea." She answered and he turned and walked past his monitors to the staircase. He waited for her as she pulled her coat off one of the couches and glided across the room to meet him but she stopped short at the monitors. "You looped this right?" She asked as she stared at the second set of monitors.

"Of course," he answered "the monitor on the right uploads to Division and that one's looped. The monitor on the left is a true feed."

"There's a truck!" She hissed.

"What!" Birkhoff sputtered as he clobbered down the few stairs he'd already ascended. "No that's not possible! Michael would have to drive at least 15 min in any direction for food. He can't be back this soon!" He argued with himself as he checked his watch. Claire turned around and began to open drawers and check under the stained area rug.

"I need a weapon!" She shouted.

"No, all the guns are in the safe" he said distractedly as the first three men piled out of the black SUV. "You need authorization, I don't have it. The code is changed daily, and only Percy has the codes."

"Well get them!" Claire hissed.

"We don't have time." Birkoff said without taking his eyes from the screen. Then he saw the last man emerge from the SUV, Roan. "Aw, no, no, no!"

"What?" Claire cried as she crossed the room so she could see the feed. "That's… not Michael." She whispered.

"No." Birkhoff said. He dialed his phone as they both heard the door buzzer sound. "He can't get in, the door is in lockdown. Only way he gets in is if I open that door." He said, and she dug her fingers into his shoulder.

Birkhoff waited impatiently as the phone rang and rang, finally Michael answered. "Birkoff."

"Roan's here." Birkhoff said shortly "Tell me you didn't authorize this Michael! Tell me you didn't call a clean!"

"It's not a clean, she needs some persuasion." Michael said and Birkhoff shut his eyes. He felt her fingers release his shoulder.

"Michael… she's just a girl."

"Percy gave the order." Michael said. "You better let him in. I'm on my way back."

Birkhoff ended the call on the cell phone and turned around slowly to face Claire. She was already across the room waiting by the door of the interrogation room. "There's no other way out is there?" she asked.

"No," he whispered and she turned and went back into the interrogation room. Birkhoff followed her and when he reached the door he saw she had already placed her wrist back in the handcuff and fastened it around her wrist.

"Then tell them you decrypted my phone." She said "Tell them there is evidence that I have a Division hard drive and if they kill me it will upload to news feeds all over the world."

"What are you talking about?" He asked, he couldn't get over the fact that she had just sat back down in the chair long enough to process what she had just told him.

"There are seven hard drives that contain evidence of every division job. One of those hard drives is wired to a division agent and if he dies it uploads. Tell them I've done the same with mine."

"I don't know anything about a hard drive, let alone seven. I would know about something like that."

" They exist B. I have two."

"I don't.." Birkhoff began but the phone in his hand began to buzz again. This time it was Roan.

"Tell them B. Please."

"They won't buy it." He answered "If you're wrong they'll kill me. Then you."

"No, I swear I have them, that's why they havn't killed me yet. They want them back."

"Just…ok…." Birkhoff stammered distracted by his cell phone that still showed the incoming call from Roan. "tell this guy what he wants to know. Don't play with him like you're playing with Michael." He instructed. "I'm… I have to go let him in."

Birkhoff shut the door behind him and headed up toward the solid metal door that was the only barrier between him and Roan. He released the deadbolts and opened the door for the team of cleaners. They pushed past him without even looking at him and clobbered down the old wooden stairs. Birkhoff followed them down, took a deep breath, and addressed Roan directly for maybe the third time during his time at Division.

"Roan!" He said loudly, he forced his voice not to crack and to sound as indifferent as possible. "I don't know what your orders are but you may want to hold off on a clean."

Roan turned slightly toward Birkhoff.

"There's information on this phone that might change Percy's mind about the cleaner order." Birkhoff said confidently. "I was just getting ready to call him."

Roan's eyes darted down to the phone in Birkhoff's hand then for the first time up to his face. Birkhoff needed to resist the urge to swallow hard and step backward. "She has a black box, maybe even two. But one for sure." Birkhoff reported "and if she dies that blackbox uploads to news feeds all over the world."

Roan's face was nearly impossible to read, but Birkhoff suspected that he hadn't surprised the cleaner with his information.

"I'll make the call." Roan finally said he nodded to the other men in his party and they went into the holding room with Claire. Birkhoff's stomach turned over. He heard Roan explaining what Birkhoff had told him to Percy. He sat back down in his chair by one of the computer stations and pretended to busy himself with further decoding the phone. Soon Roan was next to his chair with the phone outstretched to him. As he took the phone he tried to stop the tremor in his hand.

"Yeah." Birkhoff said clearly into the cell phone.

"Roan, tells me you found some potentially useful information on the terrorist's cell phone." Amanda said in her usual cold tone. Birkhoff had been expecting to speak to Percy, hearing Amanda's voice unnerved him.

"Yes." Birkhoff began. "Yea, I don't know anything about these harddrives but judging by the fact that she's decoded one and manipulated it, who ever you hired to secure them was seriously subpar. You all should have had me on it from the beginning. Anyway, I only have it partially decrypted, but from what I can tell the _terrorist_ has obtained two hard drives out of seven. One of them has been modified to broadcast to news feeds all over the world if she dies. I haven't gotten far enough to find out if the second drive was modified in the same way." Birkhoff reported to Amanda, he prayed that Claire wasn't screwing him. God, he hoped she actually had two of these mysterious hard drives he knew nothing about. Amanda was silent for a moment then she finally spoke.

"How long till you finish decrypting the phone?"

"Well, she definitely enhanced the security settings, the phone is really more of a fully functional computer than a phone. And, she's not completely inept in security systems. It will take some time, I'd say 24-48 hours."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Birkhoff waited for Amanda to cast the final blow and for everything to blow up in his face.

"Give the phone to Roan." She said coldly. Birkhoff slowly lowered the phone and handed it back to Roan.

"Understood." He said after listening to the phone for no more than a few seconds. He hung the phone up and placed it back in his pocket.

"What did she say?" Birkhoff asked, but Roan merely turned and went into the holding room.

* * *

Birkhoff paced back and forth in front of the solid steel door that stood between him and the holding area, it was too thick and he couldn't hear what was going on in the room. He didn't know what was worse, seeing what was happening or not knowing what was happening beyond the door. He was fairly certain that he could still hear a gunshot, through the door but maybe not if they used a silencer. At close range, Roan always used a silencer.

Every few seconds he checked the time on his phone, it was fifteen minutes since he'd called Michael. _What could possibly take that long?_ He questioned.

Maybe he should go in there, he thought. He could make up some crazy story about how the building was burning down and they all had to get out. _No, they'd never go for that_ he reminded himself. He'd actually need to burn the store down.

Burn the store down.

He could do that.

He broke the path of his pacing and started to look for matches, and an accelerant. He found a lighter in one of the drawers and held it in his hand. _But even if he started the building on fire. How would he get Claire out? _Roan wouldn't just go running out of an interrogation room and leave his witness."Damit" Birkhoff cursed. Arson wouldn't work.

_Play to your strengths. _He thought. His strength wasn't arson, it was technology. He scuffled across the room and sat down at his computer. _Ok, now what?_ He thought. He immediately remotely hacked into Roan's phone. He paged through the call logs without thinking. Then he settled on one number, Percy's. He placed a call to Roan's phone marked with Percy's number, when Roan answered he let the signal fail.

_There, _he thought, _now Roan has to come out and redial Percy. _But he waited more than two minutes and no one came out of the room. When his own phone buzzed he nearly lept out of his chair. He didn't even check the caller ID, ran straight up the stairs and opened the door for Michael.

"Roan's still in there!" he growled at Michael.

Michael looked him up and down before he began to descend the stairs. "Calm down." Michael said simply. But Birkhoff was far from calming down.

"Michael!" He snapped when he saw him toss a fast food bag down on the table next to Birkoff's computer.

Birkhoff saw Michael roll his eyes at him, "I'm going to eat my dinner!" Michael growled.

"No!" He bellowed back. "I swear, I won't do one bit of work on this phone till you get Roan out of here."

"Oh, Birkhoff please" Michael began.

"No, Dude, I'm serious. He gotts to go." His eyes were sharp and stubborn, Michael knew that look. There was no reasoning with that look.

"And I can't eat my sandwich first?" Michael questioned.

"Fine, and in that time I'll hack your bank account and donate the entire contents to charity!"

"Go ahead." Michael said casually as he opened the bag on the desk. Birkhoff glowered down at Michael for a second before stomping over to a computer station where he began to type furiously. After about a minute Michael glanced over.

"Hey! What the hell!" Michael snapped as he saw his bank statement flash across Birkhoff's screen.

"Don't make me press enter…" Birkhoff threatened.

"FINE! fine, alright." Michael shouted as he laid down his sandwich and got up from the table. "What the fuck is up with you tonight?"

Birkhoff watched Michael approach the doorway as he gently straightened his suit jacket. Finally, Michael reached for the door handle and pushed the solid steel door open. "Go get cleaned up." He said with the same slow, calm, smoky voice that Birkhoff was so used to.

* * *

The first thing Michael noticed when he opened the door was Roan's sleeves. He'd rolled them carefully back to his elbows but they were still speckled with bright red blood. His eyes moved slowly down Roan's forearms until he reached his fists, they were nearly caked with blood. He looked up and saw that Roan's two team members had turned and faced him while Roan was still watching his victim intently.

The girl he'd arrested earlier laid on the floor curled in a fetal position. Smears of blood now stained the concrete floor. The chair he'd handcuffed her to this afternoon was broken into bits and strewn across the room.

"Go get cleaned up." Michael said calmly. The two members of Roan's team turned and stepped out of the room. Roan waited just a moment longer before he turned and followed them. Roan was taller than Michael and as he left the room he glanced down at him, a small but knowing smirk was plastered across his face.

Even though Michael frequently worked with Roan, he made him uncomfortable. Michael honestly couldn't decide if Roan was a sociopath or not, the only thing missing was that Roan didn't seem to enjoy killing. He didn't seem to take pleasure in his job but he certainly did it well and felt no remorse for his targets. Roan put about as much thought into killing someone as most people put into stepping on bugs on the sidewalk, completely and utterly indifferent.

Michael heard the door squeek shut behind him and he saw the little figure on the floor startle.

He took a few slow steps across the room and sat down in the only chair left in the room that was still intact.

The woman on the floor hardly moved as he stepped closer to her. She coughed then whined ever so slightly. It was the first sound she'd made in his presence since he arrested her. He leaned over slightly in his chair so he could see her face. She'd been beaten badly by Roan and his team. A gash crossed her forehead just below her hair line and it dripped blood down across her face. Her left eye was beginning to swell and was red and blistered. She was bleeding slightly from her nose and from her lip but she hadn't made any attempt to clean the blood away.

"Lena?" he asked but there was no response. She was unconscious.

* * *

The door clicked shut behind Michael and Birkhoff got up from his chair again. He couldn't sit still. A few seconds later the door opened and Birkhoff watched the three men emerge from the holding room. He tried not to react but the sight of blood caked on to each of their hands forced him to sit back down in his chair. He turned away from them and tried to pretend to be busy with his computer. He heard the water run in the bathroom and he heard someone unzip a duffle bag but he forced himself not to turn around and watch the men.

Two of the men crossed in front of him and disappeared up the stairs, but Roan was still in the room. He heard his shoes slowly cross behind him, and Birkhoff couldn't fight the urge to turn toward him. He swerved his chair around to face him, looking Roan in the eye was scary, but allowing him to walk behind you without turning around was downright terrifying.

He stopped next to Birkhoff's chair and fixed his eyes on the wall across the room, he massaged the knuckles on his right hand absentmindedly as he spoke to Birkhoff. "You deceived me today." He said slowly.

Birkhoff's throat closed tight, he couldn't have spoken if he tried but even if his lungs would allow it he didn't know what to say or how to deny it. "No," he finally croaked "It's all here, on her phone."

Roan nodded once then he looked straight down at Birkhoff. He didn't have to say a word, he didn't believe him.

Roan turned and walked slowly up the stairs. Birkhoff felt his throat release when he heard the solid metal door at the top of the stairs close behind him.

* * *

A half-hour later Birkhoff heard the shriek of the metal door from the holding room. He heard a thump as Michael caught the door with his shoe before sliding through sideways. Lena hung limply in his arms. He jumped out of his chair and covered the distance across the room in a few short quick steps.

"Oh, God." He hissed as he brushed a bit of the hair away from Lena's face.

"I know." Michael said as he brushed past Birkhoff . He followed him to the couch and waited while he carefully laid her down on the torn leather couch. When Michael stepped back Birkhoff moved closer.

"Claire" he whispered a second later as Michael disappeared. "Oh, god, Claire I'm so sorry." He heard Michael's footsteps behind him as he approached again.

"Here, put this under her head" He said as he handed Birkhoff a towel "She coughed up some blood before." Birkhoff took the towel and gently lifted Claire's head and situated it between her and the couch. Birkhoff took a few deep breaths as he tried to calm himself.

"I need something… to… to clean her face." He finally stammered and Michael was already prepared, he held out a warm washcloth to Birkhoff and stepped away. Birkhoff started to gently dab at the blood caked onto her forehead.

As he worked he heard Michael's phone beep somewhere in the background. He was vaguely aware of Michael's movements in and out of the room. But his focus was on Claire, and the fact that he'd had her on the couch with him for awhile and she had yet to open her eyes. She moved slightly every few minutes and she let out little whines of pain with every move. She turned her head slightly toward the washcloth at one point but Birkhoff didn't know if she meant too.

Suddenly without warning she coughed hard and blood spilled out of her mouth. "Oh, Shit." He swore loudly as he fumbled to grab the towel on the couch to catch some of the blood. He saw he eyes open just a fraction, "C—" He caught himself he didn't know where Michael was and "Claire" was not the name that would come up on facial recognition. "Lena, are you awake?" He said slowly. He saw her eyes open just a bit further. "That's it, open your eyes, come one." He tried to coach her but they didn't open further. Her eyes were glossy and unfocused and he didn't know if she could hear him or understand him at all. He couldn't see him but he knew Michael was close, within an earshot. "Lena, can you show me where it hurts?" She winced slightly and her eyes began to close again. "We have to do something!" He shouted behind him and Michael appeared at the doorway.

He saw him roll his eyes before he said anything. "What do you want me to do?"

"Help her!" Birkhoff shouted.

Michael shook his head dismissively at Birkhoff and walked across the room toward the computer station.

"Look at her!" Birkhoff shouted as he stood up. "Watch her breathing, she's slipping in and out of consciousness, and she's so pale, she's lost too much blood!" Birkhoff didn't wait for a response before he started shouting again. Michael was seated at the computers with his back turned to both Birkhoff and Claire. Birkhoff could tell he was close to washing his hands of the situation entirely. He couldn't let him. "She needs a doctor!" He exploded.

"Amanda doesn't have one in the area." He said calmly, it barely registered to Birkhoff that Michael had already made a call on the girls behalf.

"Then she needs to go to a hospital."

"You know we can't do that" Michael said as he typed away on the computer.

"No!" Birkhoff hissed. "What I know is that I don't want this innocent kid dying in front of me!" He growled as he crossed the room and grabbed the back of Michael's chair to turn him around. "There's a reason I hide behind a computer, I can't handle this." Birkhoff confessed.

"She is certainly not innocent, Birkhoff." Michael answered.

"Yeah well, she had a chance to kill me, she didn't and she had a chance to kill you, twice! In our line of work she's a F-ing saint. And here you are, killing her."

Michael looked at him questioningly, Birkhoff knew he'd said too much, he shouldn't know those things and as far as Division knew, he'd never met her and she'd never had a chance to kill him. "You know what Percy would say about your little tantrum here?" Michael said finally.

"Don't threaten to rat me out for this, we both know you're bluffing. You're not going to tell Percy."

"I didn't kill her, Roan did the beating, not me and not on my orders." He said realizing that changing the subject would not work to divert Birkhoff.

"You are just as guilty if you let her die on this couch." He spat. Michael's eyes narrowed but he didn't respond. "Is there a kill order on her?" He asked. Michael lowered his gaze until it fell on the figure laying on the couch. "Then tell me why are we carrying out a hit?"

"We're not." He said finally.

**Thanks for reading! If you want this chapter from Claire/Lena's perspective check out the very first chapter!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry for the long wait! Again… **

Birkhoff trailed behind Michael as he strode through the hallways of Division. He was moving as fast as he could without breaking into an all out run to keep up with Michael. He only caught up with him when he paused next to a door and waited for him to open it. Michael couldn't open it himself because he held the only part of Birkhoff's life that he cared about. He was carrying Claire.

Michael led Birkhoff to the Medical wing and Birkhoff entered the pass code to gain entry. Inside a doctor and two technicians stood waiting already dressed in gowns, hairnets, masks, and gloves.

"Put her on the table" The doctor directed Michael. Birkhoff stopped near the door. "I'll give you status updates hourly." The doctor said as Michael stepped away from the table and the technicians moved toward Claire. He saw one of the technicians fasten a hand cuff around Claire's wrist. It was overkill Birkhoff thought, did a girl who had been unconscious for nearly two hours really need to be handcuffed? Where would she go?

"Alright" Michael said and he turned his back to the doctors. He grabbed Birkhoff's shoulder as he left the room and dragged him along. Birkhoff allowed him to pull him, he knew he needed to leave, there was nothing he could do if the Doctor's couldn't work their magic. Birkhoff stumbled down the short staircase that led to his work room. He sat down on his couch and waited. He knew Michael was about to turn on him, he'd figure since he couldn't get Claire to crack he'd try him. It was only a matter of seconds before the interrogation would begin. He heard Michael in the hallway above his the tech room shutting and locking doors. When he came back into view his face was serious, back to the stoic Michael that he usually dealt with.

"Tell me everything!" he barked as he bounded down the stairs toward Birkhoff.

_Too __predictable._Thought Birkhoff. "There's nothing to tell… I just didn't want you to let that girl die." He said. "I mean come on, she's kinda hot, right? Before Roan beat her to a pulp…" He said trying his hardest to find the acerbic personality he used at Division and suppress everything inside of him that was Claire's.

"Fine," Michael said. "I heard too much today, its going into my report. You'll have to answer to Amanda."

"Screw Amanda…"

"I'll put that in the report too." Michael said as he turned to leave.

As much as Birkhoff wanted to stay silent and to keep his relationship with Claire a secret he couldn't have Michael putting it into a report and sending it to Amanda. Michael knowing the truth was bad, but Amanda or Percy knowing the truth was much, much worse. "I thought we had an understanding!" Birkhoff shouted and Michael turned around slightly. "I kept my mouth shut with Nikita! Everything I heard over the coms, security footage, even that night in Russia when you almost slept with her! You two _never_ learned to shut down your coms. I didn't report a thing." Birkhoff growled as he stood up and got in Michael's face. "And I never told anyone that you hacked the mission's database and tried to reroute the cleaner the night Daniel was killed." Michael pulled back slightly from Birkhoff. "I never told Percy those nights you went out looking for her, I just rerouted your tracker and hid the evidence." Michael's eyes narrowed, Birkhoff had never said a word to anyone, not even Michael about what he had done to keep his friend safe. "Even now." He whispered. "I know you won't pull the trigger on Nikita… and so does Percy. But only I heard you give her the 'headstart' just outside the congressional party three months ago. Just before she shot you." Birkhoff saw Michael's eyes flare and his hand go instinctually to his gun. It was what Birkhoff wanted, to show Michael the lengths he had gone to in order to keep him, and Nikita out of trouble.

"That never happened!" Michael snapped. "I pursued her outside of the party where she shot me."

"Yea, alright fine… but you're cell phone's bugged and has been for the last two upgrades. I know, Percy forgot to mention that."

Michael took his hand from his gun and shoved it into his pocket for his phone. "I disabled it back at the safehouse, no one heard us tonight." Birkhoff said "If you'd had any other opp support agent assigned to you all these years, you and Nikita would both be dead."

"The 'understanding' goes both ways. I know what you do in the conference room after hours."

"Dude, everyone knows what I do in the conference room after hours! No one cares!" Birkhoff shouted.

"Then tell me what's going on now, cause if that girl talks, and you know eventually she will. She's gonna say something about you."

"There's nothing going on." Birkhoff said.

"Bull." Michael answered. "She's the girl you 'thanked' me for saving in the museum."

Birkhoff stayed a stoic as possible. "That doesn't prove anything." He hissed.

"No but your behavior tonight forms a pattern." Michael said. "before I had a suspicion, I don't need to report suspicions. But patterns… Patterns are reported to Amanda." Michael watched as Birkhoff backed away from him slowly, clearly contemplating his options.

"Damit!" Birkhoff shouted finally as he collapsed back down on the couch. "We went out a couple times a few months back. I put an end to it when I discovered she was an agent. After I ended it I checked everything, I couldn't find any evidence that she'd gotten any intelligence from me so I let it be. I haven't seen her in at least four months but I knew what Division would do if I reported it."

Michael took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "And what do you know about the hard drives?"

"Nothing." Birkhoff said. "I swear Michael, nothing but what I found on her phone."

Michael watched his reaction, nothing in Birkhoff's face indicated he was lying. He was bad at lying, well at least Michael thought he was bad at lying. The recruits and agents never seemed to be able to tell. He either got twitchy or overly confident, it was always one extreme or the other. Tonight Birkhoff was exhausted but still running on high. He wasn't twichey or confident, he was just on edge. Michael knew from Birkhoff's reaction that he was hiding much more about Lena. But He didn't need the details, he needed to get a broader sense of Birkhoff and Lena's connection.

"Why is she after Division?" Michael asked after a long pause.

"I don't know." Birkhoff answered quietly.

"Stop lying to me!" Michael accused

"I'm not!"

"Yeah you are, you're trying to protect her." Michael said and Birkhoff shifted uncomfortably on the couch. He pulled over the desk chair and sat across from him. "Or maybe, you're trying to protect yourself."

"Fuck you." Birkhoff snapped.

"Look, I don't want to kill her Birkhoff, maybe if you tell me the truth we can find a way to get her out."

"Have you ever seen Division 'let' a prisoner go?" He questioned angrily

"No, not let her go but… recruit her." Michael said. Birkhoff rolled his eyes dramatically. "I've seen her work, she'd pass training with flying colors. Then when its all said and done, fake her death, or she just disappears."

Birkhoff shook his head back and forth. "You're playing me…" he growled. "we both know that's not possible."

"maybe not, but it might be your only shot." Michael said calmly, and Birkhoff didn't openly object. "Why is she after Division?"

"When we broke up," he said "she mentioned that Division had taken stuff from her….stuff she could never get back...and she said that she wanted to get back whatever she could."

"Get back? What?"

"I don't know...she said that during an argument. I wasn't interested at the time."

Michael leaned back and thought about the possibility of putting him in the interrogation room with her, maybe he could get her to tell him everything and then he could watch the tape. He played with the idea for a moment before he decided it wouldn't work. He kept forgetting that even though Birkhoff was cooperating now it was unlikely he would cooperate under different circumstances. Birkhoff was smart and if he gave him the opportunity to sit back and analyze the situation, he'd poke holes in whatever intricately designed scenario he conceived. He'd never go along with it. Then there was the other glaring hole... Lena might not live out the night. Finally he abandoned the idea, "what else?"

"That's all I know, I swear, we never talked about Division except during our very last argument." Michael believed him.

"How did you meet her?" he asked

"On a flight." Birkhoff said. "It was random Michael, I looked it up after I broke up with her, she bought her ticket before I bought mine. She wasn't marking me…"

"what was the destination?"

"South Africa."

Michael inhaled sharply and Birkhoff winced. He knew Claire had killed a Division agent while they were in South Africa, but he managed to cover that up as a weapons malfunction. "The hard drive stored in South Africa was the first drive she acquired."

"Michael, I had no idea!" Birkhoff pleaded

"She stole it two months after your initial trip."

"No that can't be… she was in New York!" birkhoff said, but shut his mouth immediately. "I mean… ok.. that was when I saw her a lot. I don't think she jetted off to South Africa and back during those two months."

"Then she had an accomplice…" Michael said dismissively "It doesn't change the fact she procured it. Did she ever have access to your laptop… maybe while you slept… or showered?" He watched as the man on the couch unconsciously ran his hand through his shaggy hair.

"Yes, but, You can't hack my laptop. Its not possible, the security on that thing is tighter than any network in the world. Without a series of my own pass codes, that I constantly change you can't access anything."

"But its possible."

"No, no its not. I checked and rechecked that laptop, nothing was compromised. Anyway, I didn't even have access to the hard drives so what information would she have gotten from me?"

"Well you're laptop also outlines Division's security systems. If she wanted the rest of the boxes then maybe she was planning to hack the Division network and get the information."

"No, you can't hack Division, the only person who even has a chance of doing that is me."

"Maybe she was going to convince you to do just that for her."

"She never asked…" He answered

"And Nikita…" Michael questioned.

"She never once mentioned Nikita." he said forcefully, and Michael let the subject rest he didn't want to talk about Nikita.

"Ok" Michael said quickly, changing the subject. "What was her cover?"

"I don't see why you need to know all this…" Birkhoff started

"you need to report everything let me decide what is relevant."

Birkhoff sat back further into the couch, he hated when people assumed he was stupid. They never gave him credit for making them look like James Bond. But he handed them almost every move. There wasn't even one agent at Division that he hadn't bailed out at least once but no one appreciated that. "Security," he said finally. "Her father ran a private security company and she designed some of the systems."

"Did you ever meet this father?"

"No."

"Security…" Michael said as he contemplated the possibilities. "And when did you end it?"

"I saw her on the security footage during the Lauriet mission." He answered. "I ended it that night. I know I should have reported her but… I didn't. She told me she was CIA and I guess I hoped she was telling the truth."

"I think she is CIA." Michael said. "Not officially, and not exclusively. But there is some truth to that statement."

Michael watched as Birkhoff seemed to shrivel back into the couch cushions. He was upset with the situation Birkhoff had gotten himself into, but he knew that the day would come. It happened with so many agents. They met someone on the outside and they compromised their cover. Nikita had done it and now so had Birkhoff. Unfortunately the woman that Birkhoff met wasn't an innocent bystander like Nikita's Daniel had been. This time she was involved. Exactly how and why she was involved wasn't quite clear to him. He'd need to keep digging. What was becoming clear was that Birkhoff didn't know much more.

"And you haven't seen her since you broke up?"

"No."

"Or had any contact."

"Not until tonight."

Michael knew this wouldn't end well, even if Michael could conceal his involvement, Birkhoff wouldn't be able to stay neutral when Lena was cancelled. He'd expose himself in grief and he'd end up dead. Or worse, Amanda would interrogate him and he would expose them both. But if Michael put Birkhoff's information in his report, he'd be cancelled immediately. There was no way Birkhoff would get out of this alive.

As if he was reading his mind he changed the subject. "Michael, if she lives out the night, just give me a couple days to come up with something..."

Michael shook his head and stood up from his chair. He started to walk away then turned back sharply. "I can't do that."

"please," Birkhoff begged, "Whatever you want! Name your price."

"there is no price-"

"Tariq" he shouted. "I'll find him."

"You can't." Birkhoff shouting Tariq's name took him aback, that wasn't what they were talking about.

"I will find a way, just give me Cl- Lena."

"And if she dies tonight?"

"then I start looking for Tariq tomorrow." Michael marched across the room but stopped when he reached the stairs.

"No." Michael said with finality but he could tell Birkhoff didn't believe him. "No!" He shouted louder.

"I've never asked you for anything." Birkhoff said quietly. Michael shook his head back and forth as he started up the stairs,

"I'm going to follow protocol." Michael said, repeating his position on the matter. But he stopped at the top of the stairs, there was one question he hadn't answered and he wanted a truthful answer. "Birkhoff, what name did she give you?"

He hesitated, he always had a suspicion that Claire had been her real name, he didn't want to give up that last secret. "Lena Ross." He said finally.

* * *

"Ah-" she gasped as she tried to move. A sharp pain coursed through her chest, she squeezed her eyes shut and laid rigid until it subsided. "oww." She breathed as it stopped. She stayed still for a moment, letting her mind clear before she took in her surroundings. She opened her eyes to the glow florescent lights in a solid cement room. She shut them as quickly as she'd opened them, the light was too much. The only sound she could hear was the subtle hum of the air exchange system. She tried to move her left arm to wipe her eyes, but something held it down to the bed. She slowly turned her head just enough to see her hand. She opened her eyes for just a second, long enough to see the dark purple bruises covering her wrist under the restraint. She tried to wiggle her fingers in her left hand but when she did another sharp pain shot up her arm. She squeezed her eyes shut tight to keep from crying out. When that pain stopped she turned her head to look at her right hand. This hand was bound to the bed by a standard hand cuff and wasn't nearly as bruised as the other, but this hand also had an IV attached. Oh, that's not good. She thought.

She thought back how she got in this mess. Birkhoff's attempt to rescue her hadn't worked. The tiny window that they had slammed shut too quickly. It hadn't taken long for the man with the glasses to arrive. She didn't remember much after that, but whatever that man had done had left her here in this bed with a sharp pain in her chest, face, and left wrist. She prayed Birkhoff hadn't met a similar fate.

This must be Division, she thought, it was the only logical conclusion. She shut her eyes again, the bright lights were making her dizzy, but when she shut her eyes the dizziness didn't subside. Neither did the nauseous feeling that she was beginning to notice. She tried to lay as still as possible, moving was only making things worse. She couldn't tell if she'd fallen back asleep but eventually a soft click at the door caught her attention. She heard someone take four slow steps inside the room and door clicked shut behind them. She forced her eyes back open.

Birkhoff stood nervously next to the door. "Claire?" he said quietly.

"You should go." She whispered finding her voice wasn't nearly as strong as she wanted it to be. "If they catch you..."

"They won't." he said as he stepped more confidently across the room. "The cameras in this area are looped. And anyone who would care is gone for the night." He said as he began to untie the restraints on her arm.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he moved on to the restraints on her feet. She was exhausted and the lights were making her dizzy again.

"I.. I don't know." He said as he finished untying the restraints and got to the handcuff. He didn't have the key.

"B. I can't." she sighed. She could hardly move and it was already difficult to stay awake. "It's too soon."

"You've been here three days" he whispered. But Claire didn't argue again she simply closed her eyes and for a second he thought she was asleep again. "Claire, wake up you have to move." He pulled a small screwdriver from his pocket and carefully leaned over Claire to pick the hand cuff. "Amanda's scheduled to question you today." Birkhoff said "We should get you out before that happens."

"I can't." she repeated but Birkhoff didn't relent.

"I know they've got you on a lot of drugs so you could heal, but they're tapering you off them so you are lucid enough to talk to Amanda today. I think I can get you out if we run now."

She shook her head slightly but Birkhoff didn't notice, he struggled with the handcuff. "Stay awake." He instructed as he focused on the little key hole on the cuff. Claire tried to keep her eyes open but it was difficult. She let them close again as he worked.

The screwdriver slipped and Birkhoff fell forward a few inches before catching himself on the bed, but he brushed against Claire in the process. She yelped sharply in pain.

He pulled back away from the handcuff. He couldn't believe after all this time inside Division he couldn't even pick a simple lock on a handcuff. He pushed back the sheet gently then waited for her to stop him, she stayed quiet. "Claire, can I look" He asked, she nodded slightly and he pushed the cotton tank top up slightly so he could see her stomach. Dark purple bruises bloched across her entire abdomen, higher up he saw a wound dressing that was covering where the doctors entered to work on her ribs.

"It's bad…" she whispered.

"No," He lied as he looked back up at her battered face. "No…It hurts cause you haven't tried to move in days. That's all."

"You're a bad liar."

"Here, lets just try to sit up ok? Then I'll finish with that handcuff." He slid a hand behind her and tried to get her to sit up. She shook her head back and forth but he ignored her and tried to sit her up himself. She cried out and he was forced to let her lie back down. "Ok, I'm sorry." He said after a moment of letting her recover from his attempt to move her.

He let her catch her breath, but he didn't allow her to go back to sleep. "Ok listen." He began and her eyes fluttered open slightly. "Amanda is serious shit. Alright, don't mess with her like you played Michael."

Claire nodded slightly showing she was listening so he kept talking. "You have to give her what she wants, answer her questions and answer them as truthfully as you can. She's like a human lie detector and if she suspects you're lying she'll get the FMRI in here to test you." He pushed her hair away from her face and she focused her eyes on him again. "You have to give her enough information to keep her content, but hold back just enough that she has to keep you around." Birkhoff whispered. "As soon as you're well enough to move, we're out of here."

"Both of us?" Claire questioned quietly.

"Yea," he said. "You're my world now Claire, where you go, I go."

"I love you." She said and Birkhoff bent down and kissed her softly and she closed her eyes again.

"I love you too."

* * *

All day Birkhoff sat waiting nervously in his lab, he drank one can of redbull before he decided he didn't need it today. His hands were already shaking violently. He didn't know why he was letting this go on, everything inside of him told him he needed to get her out before Amanda interrogated her. But there was no way to get her out when Division was fully awake, their only chance had been early in the morning before everyone arrived. He'd missed his window. Now all he could do was hope he would find another before it was too late.

Next to his chair was his messenger bag. He could be gone in a moment. His laptop and tablet were already secured along with a frequency jammer for his tracking device, two hand guns he'd checked out from ammunitions with absolutely no intention of returning, extra ammo and a new phone that wasn't assigned by Division. He still had a little room left. He glanced around the room, no there was nothing else he needed or wanted to take. Some of his computer equipment would be useful but it was all technology he could get on the outside.

The monitor infront of him showed the live feed to Claire's room. She was stirring slightly andhe could tell the drugs had worn off. She was still trying not to move, he guessed the pain hadn't subsided much.

He split the screen on his monitor between Claire's room and new window. In the new window he opened the page that controlled the individual user security settings. After about ten minutes of constant typing he'd invisibly hacked Michael's account. He wasn't online, he left for the night a few minutes ago. He opened the folder of his operation reports and found the submitted report for the last mission, Birkhoff's actions after the mission were not recorded. He backed out of that folder and opened another folder that contained interrogation reports. He looked through the submitted reports but there still wasn't a report on Claire. He opened the draft section of the folder and found the early draft of the report on Claire. It was incomplete. Michael hadn't written anything on what he'd told him, in fact there was hardly anything written at all. He was slightly relieved, so far, Michael was choosing to stick to their bargain. He minimized the screen and began to type in the codes to access his private network outside of Division. He opened the program he'd designed to find Tariq, in three days his program had located six shell companies, two known money laundering contacts, four dead end untraceable bank accounts and one blaring connection to gogle. It was a start.

He started to edit the encryption code of the program when suddenly the window in the upper left hand corner went black.

"what the.." he said to himself as he watched the camera in Claire's room flash back on. "huh..." he thought _that __shouldn't __happen._He decided, the camera in that room was replaced five months ago with all the other cameras on that floor. He should know, he ordered all the new cameras.

"_amateur_." he said as he opened the feed to the other hidden camera he'd left in the room, the camera that only fed to his computers. "I own you bi-yoch!" he taunted as he typed in his own access code.

A new window opened on his desktop and there was different version of Claire's room. On the old camera Claire was laying quietly in her bed alone.

In the new, accurate window Claire was still laying in the bed but Amanda stood a few feet away.

He dove for his earbuds that we're tangled in the mess of gadgets on his desk. He turned up the volume until he could hear the click of Amanda's heels on the concrete floor.

Both women were watching each other in a standoff, both were trying to size the other up without speaking. Finally Amanda spoke.

"we haven't been formally introduced." Amanda said in her typical slightly apathetic, but deceptively kind voice.

"I have nothing to say to you."

"not yet, but I suspect that will change."

"So tell me Claire..." she trailed off as she watched the girls reaction. "Yes, I know exactly who you are." She smiled slightly as she watched Claire's confused and nervous face. "what have you told Michael? And, please, I would appreciate it if you were truthful with me as I intend to be honest with you." Claire remained silent in the bed, she wasn't even looking at Amanda any more. After a long pause Amanda spoke again. "I wonder." She mused. "It must have been traumatic, watching your parents die in front of you... and at such a young age." She walked slightly away from Claire, "That must take quite a toll on a person."

"But you're a smart girl and I thought you rebounded quite nicely. Top of your class in explosives, arabic, russian, and tech, with the Alliance, the only area of concern of course was hand to hand combat. And even that was a relative low, still above average when compared with your peers. But who can blame you, you really are quite...tiny. Even so, you were poised to become a premier agent." She stopped walking and turned back to Claire. "That is, until you began to decided to pursue Division. Very, poor career choice."

"who are you?" Claire asked

She smiled slightly as she tapped her heels closer to Claire, she leaned down and whispered in a voice so quiet that Birkhoff's cameras could barely pick up the audio. "I am the person that will torture and kill your brother, if you attempt to deceive me."

After a few seconds Amanda spoke again. "You should know I am prepared to go to any extent necessary to procure the information I desire." She said. "How far I go is really up to you. Cooperate, and this will all be quite painless. Or, if you prefer, hold out, it really makes little difference to me. I'm eager to tryout some new techniques, and I could do these on either you or… if you don't talk—"

"No." Claire cut her off. "You can't hurt him. I've seen the way you all rely on him, you need him." She said.

"No, I really don't. He is weak, naive, and compromised. He has outlived his usefulness to me and while, its true, I would prefer not to train someone to take his role make no mistake Claire, he is entirely dispensable."

"How did you know all this?" Claire asked

Amanda half smiled again but she didn't answer the question.

"you're going to kill me." Claire said. "I won't tell you anything so just go ahead and do it." Claire taunted. Back in his office Birkhoff swore under his breath,

"don't tempt her!" he whispered angrily.

"correct. You are a threat to Division and to its agents and I can't allow such a threat to exist." she said shortly. "I thought we had already established that the bargain we are striking here is not for your own life, but your brother's." There was another long silence in the room but this time Claire broke it.

"Fine." Claire whispered "Just don't hurt him."

Amanda waited a second longer for Claire to answer her original question, and when she didn't she pulled out her phone. She stared directly at Claire as she dialed the phone and put it up to her ear, "Michael," she said kindly. Even from across the room Claire could hear his unmistakable smokey voice on the other end of the phone. "You're needed back at operations, I'm going to try an angle with questioning Lena Ross, I'll need your help." She pressed a button on the phone to end the call, "Do you think I'm bluffing, little girl?"

"Nothing!" She yelled. "I didn't tell him anything. He doesn't have a clue who I am!"

Amanda smiled softly, "well that was the first intelligent thing you've done." She said without emotion "Now you're going to tell me where the black boxes are." She said

"Go to hell." Claire snapped.

"If that's how you feel." Amanda said. She pulled out her phone again and began to type a few numbers into it, a few seconds later there was a pounding on the door. Amanda stepped aside as the three men rolled in a chair with restraints. A second later two of the men had roughly removed her restraints and hand cuffs and were dragging her toward the chair.

When they dropped her in the chair she cried out in pain, but it didn't stop them, they pulled both wrists and ankles into restraints and fastened a leather strap around her chest. When they were finished they filed out of the room.

"This, is what is affectionately known as 'truth serum'" she said.

"Stop!" Claire screamed. "Our bargain? I answered your question, I'll tell you more! Don't hurt him!"

"Change of plans." Amanda answered. "I won't tolerate half truths."

"NO!" Claire yelled. "Get out! Get out! Leave me! You'll never get another chance!" She screamed as loud as her voice would go. Amanda turned back to her with just a hint of confusion crossing her eyes but she didn't address it.

"Sodium pentothyal, is of course the main active ingredient but we had a fabulous chemist here a few years back who altered the drug for us." She walked to the other side of the chair where she began to hook up a bag of clear liquid to Claire's IV. Claire didn't look at the woman, she stared directly at the wall on the other side of the room. "See, while sodium pentothyal is quite useful on my own agents, those agents who have undergone more extensive training have developed some sort of tolerance for the drug. So, while I use the traditional form with Divisions own recruits its had proven to be unreliable in other interrogations. I suspect, Claire, that you have been exposed to Sodium Pentothyal dozens of times during your training and you too have developed a tolerance." Claire heard a series of beeps as Amanda activated the IV. "What you will be getting is a hybrid. A cocktail containing sodium pentothyal, sodium amytal, various other barbiturates, and just a touch of amphetamine."

Amanda stepped away to the other end of the room and allowed her drug to take effect. Birkhoff and Amanda watched Claire as she squeezed her eyes shut, gripped the chair with her only good hand, and squirmed in the chair.

Birkhoff gripped his own chair, and tried to keep himself upright. He couldn't watch, but he couldn't turn away.

Then he heard her scream.

**Ok, So does the last scene work written sort of from Birkhoff's perspective. I tried writing it from Amanda's perspective and abandonded it about 1/10 of the way through... way to difficult. Then I started writing from Claires and it got long and kinda reflective (and thats not what I wanted in the first Amanda scene), so I liked Birkhoff's perspective the best but I'm still not sold on it. Is it too confusing?**

Thanks for reading! Please Review (I love reviews they make me sooo happy!)


	17. Chapter 17

**OK Are you ready? Are you sure? Here we go…**

Michael stepped out of a back door of his apartment building. He'd parked his car beneath the building and only emerged to pick up dinner from the pub across the street. He thought of his own comfortable couch waiting for him upstairs, for a few hours he could shut his mind off and watch Sports Center. He wouldn't worry about what would happen to Lena or Birkhoff tonight. He'd been far too consumed in their little plot for his liking, and he was tired of it. He didn't really even understand why he cared. He cared what happened to Birkhoff, sure. They'd worked together for almost seven years, he had to watch out for the little computer geek. And if Birkhoff really had done all those things for Nikita and him then he owed him this one. But regardless, Birkhoff always watched his back on missions, the least Michael could do was watch out for him, just a little, when they were back at operations.

But it was more than that, why did he care what happened to Lena? The girl was nothing, she was just an agent, he'd crossed paths with a hundred rival intelligence agents during his time at Division. He didn't know what made this one stick in his mind. She was a good agent, he told himself and he could recognize real talent when he saw it. She fought well the first time he met her and she was certainly more skilled with explosives than he was. But he'd never admit that out loud.

For a few minutes he thought he must be noticing her because under different circumstances she would be an acceptable Division recruit. But the more he thought about that he decided she wasn't a good recruit at all. Division went after the morally bankrupt. Division recruits were at the end of their rope and would do anything to stay alive. Even now Lena didn't fit that profile, there was a quiet confidence in her that told him she wasn't beaten yet.

She'd also managed to find a trump card where most thought none existed. For now she held Percy's hand, he couldn't cancel her until he figured out if the black boxes she possessed would upload or not.

He forced himself to push the girl out of his mind and pulled out his phone to check his email. He hadn't made it more than a few steps before he heard footsteps nearby.

"Michael." A clear voice called ahead of him. He instinctually drew his gun and pointed in the direction of the voice. Nikita confidently stepped out from the shadows about thirty feet in front of him.

"Come to turn yourself in?" Michael called

"Oh, Michael, come on now, no one in this alley wants that." Nikita said sweetly "I can't come and say hello?"

"I have something you want." He said quietly. "I knew you'd show up sooner or later."

"I don't think I'm that predictable." Nikita said with a coy smile.

"So you're not here to negotiate for Lena Ross?" He questioned sarcastically as he took a few slow steps toward her.

Nikita rolled her eyes slightly but didn't argue. "Percy set a trap and he caught the wrong girl. It's me he wants."

"Are you saying you'll trade places with her?" He asked lowering his gun slightly

"Be serious Michael." Nikita answered. "But she hasn't done anything wrong. You're executing an innocent kid."

"Why does everyone keep saying that!" Michael growled. "She is not innocent, and she's not a child! She knew what she was getting into."

"She was a lookout! That's all Michael!" Nikita argued "You can't have enough evidence to hold her."

"I don't need evidence." Michael snapped.

"So you're following the Division way now? Don't ask the questions just clean her!"

"I'm not holding her because of the one mission we know she had with you." He taunted. "Division wants their black boxes back."

"What?" Nikita asked curiously.

"Bring them to me, and maybe we can talk." Michael said but Nikita showed no sign of understanding. "Don't act like you didn't know," He said. "I know the truth. That's why you teamed up with her, you're trying to destroy the black boxes and you found someone to do your legwork."

"No." Nikita said cautiously "I join-" But Michael broke her off.

"You know what I can't believe is that you've been planning this for so long, you had her working on these boxes for years before you ever showed your face. You are just like Amanda, a master puppeteer."

"No," Nikita whispered as she tried to sort out what he was saying, "You're mistaken Michael."

"Am I?" He asked angrily. "How?"

"I've only known Lena a few months. How long have you been tracking her?"

Michael shook his head back and forth as he decided whether or not to answer her. "Two years."

"Then you were tracking her long before I met her." She said. "I didn't know anything about black boxes."

"So you knew Division was looking for her?"

"It was a possibility." Nikita answered truthfully, "She was a freelance agent. I knew that much."

"Freelance for whom?"

"I don't know…" Nikita answered "Contracts… I guessed. But I really know. I ruled out Division and Gogle, maybe CIA? MI-6? Interpol? I really didn't dwell on it."

"And you just joined up with an operative of unknown origin. That's sloppy Nikita… You're lying."

"I don't need to explain my reasons to you!" Nikita argued.

Off to Michael's right a man opened a back door and tossed a bag of garbage out into the ally. Nikita quickly hid behind a dumpster and Michael concealed his weapon at his side. As the door shut again behind the worker, Nikita reappeared from beside the dumpster.

"Ok, here's what I don't get." Michael said crossly as he turned again to face Nikita. "There's no motive. She seeks out black boxes, goes through significant time and resources to procure them, and doesn't do anything with the contents." Nikita stayed quiet she let Michael finish his thought. "Is she waiting till she has the entire set to sell?"

"I don't think she's after the black boxes." Nikita interjected.

"Then what is she after?" Michael barked. "Cause Percy is going to cancel her and I don't even know what got her in this mess in the first place?"

Nikita drew in a sharp breath when Michael mentioned cancellation. "Why do you care?" Michael rolled his eyes and shook his head at her dismissively. He started to walk away. "No," Nikita said, and Michael stopped. "I know its your job. It is your task to investigate, and you are always thorough. But… this isn't the first time Division's acted on less than solid evidence. Why do you care this time?"

"I…" Michael began but paused. "I don't know." He said finally. "I've already said too much." He started to walk away from Nikita again but like before Nikita spoke and he stopped.

"She told me, that Division took her family from her twelve years ago. They were targets."

"Revenge." Michael said as he secured his gun beneath his jacket. "figures, you are both after the same thing."

"No, Michael. Its not revenge, its justice." Nikita argued. "And she just wanted to get back a piece of what they took from her."

"Attacking Division won't bring her family back." Michael said

"I know." Nikita said. "I'm just repeating what she told me." They stood in silence for a few moments. "She did ask me to do something." Nikita said quietly, she looked unsure of herself as she held out a small white box to Michael. "She asked me to give you this."

Michael took the box and flipped it around in his hand. He opened it to found a set of car keys, keys to a jeep. "What is this?" he asked.

"I don't know. I'm only the courier." She answered.

"This doesn't change anything, I can't help you." he held the keys back out to Nikita.

She shook her head. "No, keep them."

He stuffed the key ring in his pocket. "I should go." He said quietly. "You should walk away from all this…" he said changing the subject.

He glanced over at Nikita and saw her eyes welling up with tears. "you know we should be on the same side." She said "Come with me?"

"You chose your path." he said quietly

"You would have done the same." she said. "If it was Division that killed Elizabeth, you never would have stayed."

"That's not what I meant."

Nikita looked back at him she let one tear start to fall. "I didn't know what else to do." She said "It just happened..." she began but he held up his hand to stop her.

With his other hand he fiddled with the keys in his pocket nervously. He took a few deep breaths without looking at her then finally turned back to her. "That was a long time ago." he said, but Nikita knew it wasn't true, Michael still felt the pain as though it was yesterday. "you're on your own with Lena. I won't help you."

"Is this about me or her? You won't help me or you won't help her?" Nikita shouted as Michael walked away.

* * *

He watched the screen of the tablet computer while he put the Kevlar vest on under his shirt then stuffed another one into his bag. When he was finished he put an ear bud back in and leaned the tablet against the desk top he was hacking. He hated to hear her scream. In all the beatings that Roan gave her she never screamed like this. It wasn't a scream of pain, he was fairly sure with the amount of serum Amanda gave her she couldn't feel much pain, it was fear. She was so confused; Amanda had her messed up beyond anything he was accustomed to seeing in Division. He hoped that soon Amanda would just give up, but that would go against everything he'd ever known about Amanda. But if Claire wouldn't give her what she wanted after this much persuasion she just wouldn't give.

He flipped to another window on the tablet the team of division agents that were stationed outside the door, he needed a way to get past the four of them, if he could do that then shooting Amanda wouldn't be a problem.

Then he turned his attention back to the desktop in front of him. He pushed a thumb drive into the USB port and began to type as fast as he could, but hearing Claire's screams in his ear slowed him down. He forced himself not to look at the tablet until he had the computer cracked, finally after what seemed like a life time a tiny window opened in the middle of the screen that said "Transfer documents to…." He typed in the location and watched as the little icon turned into a percentage of documents that were transferred.

He allowed himself to look back at the tablet.

"How did you get the first box, Claire?" he heard Amanda ask her.

"I'll never tell!" squeeked Claire as she tried to pull her legs out of the restraints. "Go to hell!" She said as loudly as she could yet it was still barely audible to Birkhoff.

"It was clever." Amanda said. "You're a smart girl, I want to know how you pulled off such a daring feat?" Her voice was cloaked with a false kindness. Even Birkhoff knew the tactics used with the serum, it hindered the patient's ability to tell friend from foe, lie from truth, so if you could gain the patient's trust, they would, in theory, spill all their secrets.

"No." Claire whispered.

"Be a good girl," Amanda coaxed. "Tell me how you got the box in South Africa." Birkhoff saw Amanda reach up to the IV and increase the flow.

"No, Don't!" Squeeked Claire before she started screaming again.

"Claire, how did you get the box in South Africa." Amanda repeated.

"I…." she began. "I worked there…" She whispered "you brought it to me."

"What did you do there?"

"Security… I.. consulted."

"Where is that box now?" Amanda asked.

"Please," Claire begged but Amanda only reached up for the IV, "CIA. My handler." She whispered.

"Good. That wasn't so difficult." Amanda said "And, the name of your handler?"

"I don't know…" she whimpered. "Please make it stop!"

"It will stop when you finish my questions." Amanda said calmly.

Claire looked back at her with fierce but glassy eyes, she spit in Amanda's face. Amanda wasted no time in giving her a powerful backhand across her still bruised and swollen face.

"Your handler." Amanda said firmly.

"Forester." She finally said. "Its not… his real name."

"And what is his real name?" Amanda questioned again.

"I don't know." Claire whispered.

Amanda decided to let it drop "the second box?" "Where is the second box?" Claire looked away as she started to cry again.

"I don't know." She whimpered

"Oh, I think you do." Amanda said quietly. Amanda reached up and changed the dose on the IV again.

"Please, stop." Claire cried

"Where is the box?"

"Safe deposit box." Claire whispered. "Geneva."

"and is that box rigged to upload to news servers if you die?"

Claire was now shaking uncontrollably as she tried to stay quiet but Amanda repeated the question before pulling taser from her pocket. She jabbed it into Claire's arm and the girl on the bed let out another scream. Amanda increased the flow on the IV again and repeated the question. This time to Birkhoff's horror she answered.

"no." she whimpered.

He watched as Amanda reached up on the IV and presumably stopped the flow. She then turned and walked slowly out of the room. When she was just outside the room she reached into her pocket and removed her phone.

A beep alerted Birkhoff that the transfer was complete and he pulled the thumb drive from the computer and stashed it in his bag. Curiosity got the best of him, he wanted to know exactly what Amanda had sent from her phone. Then he turned back to the desktop and opened the owner's email, the sent folder.

_Clean room b17. _

_~Amanda_

_Sent from my blackberry_

* * *

"I have a pick-up order." he said to the bartender as he glanced around the restaurant, Nikita hadn't followed him inside.

"Yea, sure. I'll be with you in just a minute." the bartender said as he began to mix drinks for the two women a few seats down." Michael sat down and focused his attention to the tv screens above the bar even though he wasn't really watching.

He suddenly felt exhausted, he wished he'd just gone up to his apartment when he got home. He hated running into Nikita, it didn't really matter of it was during a mission or just out the street like today. He just couldn't stay detached. Birkhoff was right of course, he would never pull the trigger but he knew someday, someone in his team would, and that would be the end. He wished she would just walk away like he'd told her to, but he knew that wouldn't happen.

"Matt right?" the bartender asked suddenly jarring Michael out of his thoughts.

"Yeah," he answered, it was the cover name he always used at this restaurant. He was a fairly regular take out customer. Michael didn't like to have a predictable routine, he rotated coffee shops, grocery stores, and gas stations but being that this restaurant was so close to his condo he stopped in to pick food up more often than was wise.

Because he came in frequently the bartender was one of the few people in the world who would attempt to engage him in small talk. "Kitchen says its gonna be another 5 min, sorry man. We got a big party in and were running a little behind."

"it's fine." Michael said and he focused his attention back on the tv.

"hey I can ring you up now if you want."

"sure," Michael said, he dug in his pockets and found a twenty dollar bill hidden in one of his coat pockets. He handed it to the bartender without looking away from the television. He heard the change click on the bar in front of him but he didn't move to put it away. A few seconds later the bartender was talking again.

"damn Cutler..." he swore "so fucking over rated." he spat. Michael only then noticed that ESPN was running a story on the Chicago Bears quarterback, Jay Cutler. He had left the game that week with yet another disappointing injury. "If he could actually make it through a game we'd have a shot at the Division."

"I don't think it's our year." Michael added.

"You might be right... At least your Sox did alright this year." he said off handedly. "Not that I really care, I'm a Cubs fan." he added. He stepped off to the side of the bar to get two beers for one of the servers and he left Michael wondering how the man knew he was a White Sox fan. Here in New York it wasn't a logical conclusion. He was sure he'd never mentioned it in here before and he was fairly sure he'd never discussed Chicago sports with the bartender.

"do you think you'll be able to keep Buehrle after this year?"

"I...I don't know. I guess it depends how much they want to spend."

"they're talking like he might go to the Nationals." the bartender said, and Michael watched the little round man as he went about his work still spouting on about baseball. "now.. As for the Cubs, we need anything we can get our hands on." The bartender laughed. "some decent pitching, if we could grab a big bat in the free agent market I think we could compete next year..."

"I'm sorry..." Michael interrupted. "but how did you know I was a Sox fan?"

"I'm CIA." he said seriously, then laughed out loud, "nah, I'm just messing with you man, your keychain." he said as he gestured to the set of keys that sat in front of Michael on the bar, the set that Nikita had given him. He must have removed them when he got the cash out of the same pocket.

"So'd you grow up in Chicago?"

"yeah," Michael said distractedly, he turned the keys over and over in his hand. There was something... familiar about the way they felt in his hand. "Evanston…"

"you're foods up." the bartender said but Michael didn't hear him.

A key to a jeep, two house keys, and a battered White Sox key chain. Just like the keychain he got for his sixteenth birthday from his sister, it came with the keys to his first car, a hunter green Jeep Cherokee.

"Matt?" the bartender asked again. "you ok man?"

These were the keys to _his _jeep. The first house key was the key to his parent's house in Evanston, and the second house key was a key to Elizabeth's apartment downtown. He hadn't seen this set of keys in... Twelve years, Claire stole them before he left for Germany. She died... She died before he came home.

He jumped up from the barstool and barreled out of the restaurant with only the keys in his hand.

He reached the ally, his mind was stuck on what he contained in his hand. He couldn't think of anything beyond the three keys he held. "Nikita!" he heard his voice break as he tugged on the collar of his button down shirt. He could feel his throat closing in tighter and tighter until he found himself gripping the dumpster trying to breathe.

He remembered the face of the little girl he hadn't thought of in years, he remembered her eyes, the way they used to pierce into him whenever he tried to tell her "no." She had the most expressive eyes, he used to melt every time.

He remembered the look on Claire's face the day she'd stolen the keys, the last time he'd seen her. She was so determined not to say a word, just like the woman he'd interrogated only a few days ago. If only he'd been looking he would have seen the resemblance. Now that he knew, it was so clear. Her face, her eyes, her voice, the way she moved, the way he instinctually wanted to smack Birkoff when he said she was _"hot". _It all fit now. It was in front of his face all along, why hadn't he been looking?

He finally pulled in a few good breaths and he set off back down the alley. He shuffled through the memories of his sister and the thoughts that were bombarding his mind making it difficult to think clearly. Then one thought forced its way to the forefront of his mind.

Nikita had said 'She just wanted to get back a piece of what they took from her.' He'd argued that attacking Division wouldn't bring her family back. He stopped walking and grabbed the drain pipe next to him for support.

She didn't want the black boxes… it was never about them. She was after _him._

_My God, _he thought _What have I done? _

**Ok, how did I do? No, the story is not done, but I know there have been some people anxiously awaiting this chapter.**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


	18. Chapter 18

**One more update left. I'm so glad you are still here reading! I love that the traffic on this story just keeps going up and up! You'd think with a story this long I'd lose people but it seems like we keep adding new readers. Very cool. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

_Stop it! _He screamed at himself. "Focus." He said out loud to the stagnant air in the alley. He reached into his pocket and found his cell phone. There was one missed call from Amanda, and a text message from a number he didn't immediately recognize, he didn't check the voicemail or the message. He didn't care. Instead he dialed Birkhoff's number, the call went straight to voicemail.

"Call me back." He growled but he couldn't think of what else to say. He knew these calls were monitored."Its about… Claire." He said finally after a long pause. He knew Birkhoff well, if he hadn't answered the call he wouldn't check the voicemail, and he probably wouldn't call him back. He'd have to keep trying.

There was no time for a plan, no time to organize and develop a mission. Any planning would need to be done in route, he had about thirty minutes of driving ahead of any action. He pulled himself back up to his feet and started toward the parking garage.

As he approached the back door to his building he saw Nikita about fifteen feet away from the door along the side of the building. She called out to him, "Michael!" She shouted. "You pushed _me_ away that night in Russia!" she said loudly, too loud for the alley.

"Shhh!" Michael hissed as he opened the door to the apartment building and held it out for her, she stepped inside ahead of him and followed him down the stairs to the parking garage.

"You knew how I felt, and you held me at arms length all those years!" she said "You told me you couldn't move on well, I did!" she snapped at the back of his suit jacket. She followed Michael down another flight of stairs waiting for some sort of response, when that didn't come she started again. "And you can't blame me for that! Daniel was a good man, and I loved him. Admit it, you were jealous!" she waited again for a reaction, Michael didn't even slow his pace. "You were so jealous of a man you never met that you let Division kill him!" He opened the door to the garage level and held it open for her. "You stood by and did nothing!" She hissed as she passed him but he caught her arm tightly and stopped her.

"I was too late." He said as he held her arm firmly in his grasp.

"Let go." Nikita whispered as she pulled slightly, trying halfheartedly to get out from his grasp.

"I drove up to the cabin myself. Owen got there first." He turned away slightly, he couldn't meet her eyes. Not now, not when he was on brink or reliving another loss. "I may have been jealous, but do you think I ever wanted you to feel anything like the pain I felt when I lost Elizabeth!" Nikita relaxed in his grasp she turned and tried to meet his gaze. His eyes were brimming with pain and heartache. Something had brought this sudden shift in Michael, what that was she couldn't be sure. She had a suspicion it wasn't their conversation here.

"No," she whispered.

He released her arm and started toward the rows of cars. He walked quickly through the rows, finally stopping at a black Lexus GX. Nikita followed slowly behind.

"Michael… I." she began.

"Get in the car." He said gruffly.

"Why?"

"Trust me… don't trust me. I don't care." He said as he pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the SUV. He got in and slammed the door behind him. He backed out and just before he pulled away Nikita put a hand out and opened the passenger side door.

"Where are we going?" she asked as she held the door open.

"Division. To get Lena." He growled. "Get in or shut the door, I won't wait for you."

Nikita crawled into the SUV and Michael started moving before she got the door closed. "What changed your mind?" Nikita asked as she reached for her seat belt. She heard the tires of the SUV screech around a corner of the crowded garage and braced herself against the window. Michael showed no sign of hearing her, she didn't push the issue until they were well outside the confines of the garage and onto the streets of New York.

"Glove box." He growled and Nikita opended the glove compartment and pulled out an iphone "Open the shadowjump app, chart a course to the 95."

"Does he need to add 'shadow' to _everything_ he does?" she joked slightly as she opened the application. Michael didn't even glance toward her. Nikita did as Michael asked and sat in silence for another ten minutes as Michael drove manically out of the city, magically hitting each green light as he came to it.

"So, what's the plan?" Nikita asked. But the other side of the car was still silent. She looked over, his jaw was clenched and his eyes were focused on the road he didn't even glance back at her. His breath was short and quick. "Michael." She shouted, then finally reached gently over and touched his arm.

He started at her touch but didn't pull away. "Michael, what's going on?" she asked calmly once she had his attention.

"She's with Amanda." He choked. "We're getting her out tonight, if we're not already too late."

"Ok," Nikita said calmly. "We need a plan Michael. I mean breaking someone out of Division is impossible without the proper preparation."

"There's no time for a plan!" He growled. "Didn't you hear me? She's with Amanda!" he repeated.

"Michael without some sort of organization this is suicide."

"She's dead if we don't act tonight." Michael growled. "There's a box in the back, get me the other Baretta, and all the extra clips."Nikita hesitated a moment before unlatching her seatbelt and crawling back into the SUV. "And pick something out for yourself." He called over his shoulder.

"What changed Michael?" She yelled from the back seat. In the front Michael doubled his grip on the steering wheel but didn't answer her. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket again and called Birkhoff's phone number. Again it went straight to voicemail.

Nikita crawled placed the magazines and the gun on the console then crawled back over it and into her seat on the passenger side. "Michael, I need to know. If we're about to launch a raid on Operations I need to know why. Why are you suddenly so ready to risk your life and mine, to get Lena out, when twenty minutes ago you wouldn't even consider it?"

Michael shook his head back and forth frantically. "I can't." He stammered finally. "I need to stay focused, if there is any chance of getting her out alive."

"No, I need more than that." Nikita answered

Michael sighed and glanced over at Nikita for the first time, he was risking her life, he knew had to tell her why. "You really don't know?" he asked.

Nikita shrugged her shoulders, "No." she answered.

"Those keys." He said after a long pause. "Do you know who they belonged to?"

"Lena?"

"They're mine."

"I don't understand."

"I didn't either, at first." he explained "But then I realized," he pulled them out of his pocket and handed them to Nikita. "That is the key to my first car, it was a Jeep Grand Cherokee. The gold key is a key to my parents home in Evanston, the silver was key to Elizabeth's dorm, and the keychain was a gift from my little sister on my 16th birthday." He swallowed hard. "A gift from my sister Claire."

He pulled the keys back out of Nikita's hand and stowed them in his pocket. "Now, I guess, she goes by the name of Lena Ross."

"She's your sister!" Nikita gasped. Michael nodded. "I didn't know you had a sister…"

"I used to have a sister," He sighed. "I thought she died when she was a kid, long before any of this started with Division."

"Are you sure it's her?"Nikita asked as the scenario's of Gogle plots and Amanda's schemes began to circle in her mind.

"It's her." he said firmly. "I didn't see it before because I wasn't looking. But now that I…" he pulled out his phone again and started to dial Birkhoff's number. "It's so clear." He said calmly. But the calm was short lived as a few seconds later he began to shout again. "I'm going to kill Birkhoff if he doesn't answer his phone." He shouted suddenly.

"Michael, I think we can do it without the Nerd."

"He's in on this, he knew it," Michael hissed. "That glorified geek squad worker with a napoleon complex, lied to me… and after we get her out I'm going to kill him!" He shouted. Nikita blinked and pulled back slightly from Michael.

"He was her man on the inside?" Nikita asked "Nerd? But she said her guy on the inside was her boyf-"

"Stop!" Michael said crossly. "I can't talk about that." Nikita saw his hands tense around the steering wheel. "We're going to focus on what we know." He began to outline the mission, "I know, she is being held in room 17, sub level B. That's one small advantage for us, its close to the parking level with minimal patrols. But, there will be guards if its occupied. I'm going to go in, and pull her, when we come out you'll drive this vehicle."

"That's it?" Nikita asked. "I'm the get-away car?"

"I can't protect you if you go in." Michael answered. "If I'm not back within 10 minutes or I don't contact you, leave. Don't wait."

"I'm coming with you." She said definitively.

"Fine." he said with the same cross tone "do what you want."

"And Birkhoff," Nikita said. "I think we should get him out too…"

"Oh, screw him!" Michael growled.

"Michael!" Nikita said sharply "She'd want you to get him out too."

"Since when, have you ever wanted anything to do with Birkhoff?"

"I just think that if she loves him…"

"Oh, please." He growled. "She doesn't love him."

Nikita opened her mouth to start again but Michael interrupted her. "I'm going to get his sorry little ass out of there too! But she's first!"

* * *

_5:15_

_Set_

"_Beep" _

_Armed_

_5:14…5:13…5:12_

Birkhoff watched as the tiny digital read began to tick away on the explosive he set under Amanda's desk. Then he flipped his bag shut and secured his gun into the back of his pants and a knife he'd checked out from the armory in his boot. Just like Michael always did. He left his Division cell phone where it lay blinking on the desk. It had a tracking device, in the off chance he did get out with Claire it would only lead the Division strike team straight to their location. Still, it was hard to leave the cell phone he'd spent so many hours modifying with links, apps, and other capabilities, behind. He pulled the messenger bag off the floor and headed for the door.

He brushed past two guards as he made his way away from Amanda's office, no one engaged him in conversation. No one even looked at him and for that he was thankful. He made his way unnoticed a deserted corridor on the north end of Division. It contained an access panel to the air ventilation system. He crawled inside and made his way to the end of the tunnel. At the end he found a ladder which he climbed until he reached sublevel B and slid into the air ducts. It was a tight fit with the laptop bag slung over his shoulder, but he managed to move efficiently through the metal ducts. He pulled himself along until he reached a point that he thought was above Claire's room.

He rolled over onto his side and dug deep into his bag until he extracted his tablet computer from the side pocket. The tablet now displayed a blueprint of Division with a little green dot marking his location about two and a half holding rooms down from Claire's. He pressed another button and the tablet displayed the views from all the security camera's in the area. He first took note of the guards outside Claire's room, he would need to get by them. Then he scanned the nearby hallways for Amanda. He couldn't find her on any of the cameras, but that didn't mean much. Division was full of corridors, corners, and nooks that were free of cameras. He shimmied carefully and quietly down the tunnel closer to Claire's room, he didn't need to worry about being heard, as far as he could tell she was alone. He finally stopped next to the air exchange vent that led into her room. He pulled the gun from the back of his pants and made sure it was properly loaded. Again he pulled the tablet computer from his bag and watched the cameras outside of the room. The guards still waited patiently outside the room. Down two levels in the armory he saw Roan appear on a security feed.

Birkhoff switched back to the feed of the two guards. He braced himself inside the air duct as the explosive he'd set five minutes earlier violently shook the structure. On the tablet he watched one of the guards disappear to check out the explosion. On another camera Roan disappeared. When the alarms began to blare, he kicked out the grate between him and Claire's room.

"Claire!" he shouted down into the room. He poked his head out of the grate and saw her below him strapped to the inquisition chair. Then one of the guards opened the door. He pulled himself back inside the vent where the guard couldn't see him. He found himself staring at the gun that was cluched akwardly in his fingers. He had to do it, he sat forward again and peeked out the opening of the vent. He pointed the gun at the guard below, the man who didn't even know Birkhoff was perched above his head. It felt wrong, it didn't feel like self defence, and he had way too much time to think about what he was about to do. The gun suddenly felt heavy in his hands, he bit down on his lip as he watched the gun in front of him quiver ever so slightly. _Shit. _He thought as he sat frozen in the duct. He needed to pull the trigger.

Below him he heard Claire whimper slightly as she moved in her chair.

"Shut up. Bitch." He heard the man say.

_Bang. _

_God, that was loud,_ he thought to himself. It had been a long time since he'd fired a gun without ear protection. Carefully he lowered himself out of the duct and dropped down next to the guard who now lay struggling on the floor. He pushed the man's gun away from him, then pulled his knife from his boot. He pulled the radio off the man's shoulder and attached it to his own belt. Then he found the hand cuffs from his back pocket and began to secure them around the man's wrists.

"You?" The man asked angrily but with genuine confusion. He held his good arm over the bullet Birkhoff had imbedded in his shoulder. He grimaced when Birkhoff forced both hands into the handcuffs.

"It's a good wound." Birkhoff said as he tightened the handcuffs. "You're should will be sore for a while… the Doc'll have you fixed up soon." He knew the man, they weren't friends by any stretch of the word, but he knew that the man's name was Ken and he'd been a guard inside Division for at least three years. Birkhoff turned the gun slightly in his hand "I'm sorry about this." He said as he forced the butt of the gun into the man's temple knocking him out.

After securing the guard he moved over to Claire. He used the knife to cut the bonds that held her to the chair.

"B?" she whispered.

"Yea, Babe its me." He said calmly, much calmer than he felt. The sudden rush of adrenaline had left his hands shaking but somehow his voice remained calm.

"That woman…." She trailed off, he didn't try to hold her attention, he simply worked on the tie that held her right wrist to the chair. She was hardly able to open her eyes, but when she did they were glassy, distant, and confused.

"I know…" He said as he cut the last bond then moved over to the medical cart to find a bandage so he could pull out the IV. "she won't hurt you again."

"No…" she whispered, Birkhoff turned his back to her as he pulled every drawer it the cart open. "She's here."

Birkhoff started to turn around when a force he'd never felt before hit him from behind knocking him to the ground. As if he'd been hit in the back with a baseball bat, the air was knocked violently from his lungs. A sharp pain coursed from his shoulders down his spine. He couldn't move and couldn't breathe as he struggled to realize what had happened. He blinked hard as he laid face down on the cold cement floor.

"NO!" he heard her screaming. "I told you!" She shrieked. "I told you what you wanted!"

"You failed to mention him in our conversation." Amanda said

Birkhoff heard Amanda's muffled voice and he tried hard not to move. He didn't know where Amanda had come from. She must have been hidden back along the wall. He chastised himself for not checking the room properly. That was agent 101. But as dumb as his move had been, Amanda didn't seem to be focusing on him. Maybe she thought he was dead, the only thing that indicated to _him_ that he was alive was the pain in his back and on the side of his head. He must have hit his head when he fell… He forced himself to open his eyes even though the lights in the room seemed very bright. He could see Amanda, her red heels, and gray wool dress. He could see up to her shoulders but he couldn't see her face, the chair Claire was tortured in blocked his view, and her view of him.

"Our agreement was only good, if you told the truth." Amanda said slowly. "You lied."

"No," Claire coughed. "I told you where the boxes were!"

"Yes," Amanda said. "But you neglected to tell me about your partner here. Lies of omission are still lies."

"I told you…" Claire whimpered, and Birkhoff could hear that she was crying again.

"What did you do?" Amanda asked "How did you get an entirely self-serving individual to help you? Seymour knew that helping you would result in his cancellation…" she mused as she paused to consider the possibilities. "Oh, of course, how silly of me." She said half amused. "You convinced him that you loved him."

"Kill me!" Claire shouted suddenly, her sudden outburst didn't match Amanda's calm calculated demeanor. Birkhoff began to inch his fingers to his gun. "You got what you wanted! Its what you're going to do anyway. Just do it!"

"You actually did love him? And he loved you back? Clearly…" she said then she paused again. "That, goes against my psychological profile of Seymour Birkhoff." When she turned back to Claire a few moments later the tone of her voice was no longer contemplative but her usual detached with a slightly apathetic quality. "You forced my hand Claire, first with Seymour here, and next with Michael."

"Do what you should have done years ago." Claire said coldly

"I never wanted it to be this way." Amanda said as she pointed the gun at Claire.

It was easier this time, pulling the trigger. All Amanda had to do was point the gun at Claire and Birkhoff's fingers did the rest. The sound of the gun didn't startle him this time, and neither did the sight of her body collapsing onto the floor, or the crimson pool that crept out from under her gray wool dress. Unlike him, Amanda hadn't worn her Kevlar.

He forced himself up off the floor and tucked his gun back down into his jeans. As he stood the entire room swayed dangerously and he found himself grabbing the chair to stay upright. When he found his balance he directed his attention to Claire, who was sobbing uncontrollably with her eyes squeezed shut. "Claire" Birkhoff coughed. "It's Ok." He said trying to comfort her.

"We're dead?" she asked when she finally opened her eyes.

"Not yet." Birkhoff answered, he bent down into his bag and found the other vest.

'but she shot you!" she said, it was more of a statement than a question.

"Kevlar" he answered. He tugged on the collar of his shirt to reveal the vest below. "I have one for you too..." he said. Hee put the vest on her as she struggled to regain some composure.

"I don't think I can walk." she said.

"I'll help you."

"but I'll slow you down."

"it doesn't matter. We'll go as fast as we can and we'll get out." he answered as he finished buckling the last strap. He wrapped one arm tightly around her waist and pulled her from the chair.

She was right. She clung tightly to his shirt and he could feel almost her entire body weight against him. If he wasn't there she'd topple right down onto the ground. He secured his bag over his shoulder and made their first few steps toward the door.

"how do you feel?" he asked as he began to dig in his bag again.

"I'm ok." she answered

"Right." He said sarcasticly. "So, you feel like crap."

"I'll be ok."

"Well, that's the goal, isn't it?" He showed her another gun he had stashed in his messenger bag. "I think you should carry this." He tucked it into the back of her jeans and covered it with the vest. "just in case."

"I can't shoot that!" she exclaimed. "I'll accidentally shoot you! Or myself!"

"You're a better shot than I am." he said while he redoubled his grip on her waist. "even when your all drugged up."

"Shut up." she whinnied as she tucked her head into his shoulder.

"ok." he said "on three... One... Two... Three..." on three he used his one free hand to open the door.

The hallway appeared empty but he knew they had a long way to go before they reached the parking level. The silo was closer but in Claire's condition he was sure she couldn't climb the distance. He tried to move as quickly as possible while still watching for any signs of guards or patrols but they weren't making great time.

He'd redirected the few cameras that were in the area. Division's internal security had never been Percy's priority. Percy preferred patrols and tracking devices to cameras. Most of the cameras that were in the hallways of division Birkhoff had installed himself, partially for his peace of mind and also on Amanda or Michael's request. Amanda liked to watch the recruits interact at meals and in the halls, Michael liked to observe their training and work outs from a distance. Birkhoff needed to know who was walking into his office before they got there.

"Can you go faster?" he asked as they rounded the first corner without any signs of patrols. When she didn't immediately answer him he stopped. "Claire?" he asked again. He tucked his gun away and took her face in his one free hand. Wherever it wasn't bruised and swollen on her face was white and pale. Her eyes were glassy and bloodshot and she was shivering slightly though her face was sticky with sweat.

"Hey!" he said too loudly "don't pass out on me." she didn't make much move to comply but he felt her grip redouble along his collar and took that as her sign she was ready to go.

When he peaked around the next corner he saw exactly what he didn't want to see; a patrol making its way toward them.

"Sit... Rest just for a second" he said as he let her slide down the wall onto the cold cement floor. He made sure she was safely behind the cement pillars before he began to fire. He discharged three rounds down into the corridor. One of the two men yell in pain. More gunshots rang out as they returned fire. He could hear at least one man edging closer to the corridor where he stood with Claire, he shot two more rounds down the hallway to slow him down. Then one man popped around the corner but Birkhoff was ready, he planted one bullet between the man's eyes.

He reached for Claire and pulled her back to her feet. He heard a faint voice calling on a radio for backup. Birkhoff cursed his poor aim, he must have only injured the man. Several more alarms began to blare as he dragged Claire faster and faster down the corridor. As they passed the injured man Birkhoff took his weapons and pulled his radio from his shoulder.

They were only two hallways away from freedom but he knew that before they reached the garage they would likely be intercepted by the backup the first guard had called. He pulled Claire as quickly as he could, she seemed to be sensing his urgency because she walked along better now than she had a few minutes prior. Birkhoff kept his gun in one hand as he darted from cement column to cement column.

Before he saw the team he heard their heavy leather boots on the floor. He slid Claire back down against the wall and told her to stay safely behind the cement column. He crept over to the column on the other side of the wall and waited until he could see the team. Five men walked carefully down the hallway, checking behind each barrier as they went. He carefully lined up his first shot at the leader and fired. The furry of bullets that followed was deafening. Stray bullets struck the cement around them sending a hailstorm of bits of concrete. There was so much shooting that without a good vantage point Birkhoff couldn't tell how many he'd hit. He looked over at Claire expecting to see her curled up in a confused and desperate ball against the piling, but instead he when he looked over he saw her lining up a shot, he watched her fire and he heard a man cry out. "I'm out!" she yelled across the corridor and he pulled another clip from his pocked and slid it along the floor to her.

"I thought you wern't going to shoot!" he said amazed as she quickly reloaded,

She struggled to cock the gun with her injured hand. Birkhoff shot again and again until the he and Claire were the only ones shooting.

He didn't know what the next move should be, could they have possibly killed all five guards? No he thought to himself, that was unlikely. It was much more likely that they were waiting for him to make a move so they could get a better shot. But waiting here was suicide, another team would be on their way soon.

"cover me." he said

"no!" Claire argued

"just do it!"

"I'll hit you!" She shouted

"fine just shoot to kill, don't make me suffer." he said sarcastically as he reloaded his gun. He crept down the hallway and found one gunman dead on the floor, then a second. He pushed both guns away from the guards. A third guard was injured but unable to call for help or take another shot. Birkhoff took his gun and knife but let him lie. The fourth guard he came across was injured but much more alive, the guard fired two shots at Birkhoff but both missed; Birkhoff's did not. But as he found his mark so did a bullet from the fifth fighter Birkhoff hadn't seen. He dove for the cover of the cement piling as the rain of bullets began again. He pushed himself up against the wall as he tried to shield himself from stray bullets. When the storm of bullets ceased he heard coughing coming from the direction of the fifth fighter. He searched his vest for the bullet, this strike to the vest was different than the ones in the interrogation room. This time it wasnt in the middle of nis back it was lower along his side. Last time he felt like he'd been hit with a bat, this time he felt like someone was stabbing him with a hot, throbbing iron.

"We got to go.." he heard from somewhere next to him. He turned to see Claire crawling toward him. How long had he been sitting there? Long enough for her to crawl half way down the hallway... "he hit the vest right... B?" she asked desperately as she reached him. "answer me!" She pulled at his shirt searching for the hole. "Move your hand!" She commanded.

He hesitated but she wrapped her own hand around his wrist and pulled it away, revealing a dark stain on his gray sweatshirt and a scarlet liquid covering his palm.

"it's ok..." he said "it doesn't even hurt that bad...let's move." he said as he pulled himself up using the wall. He reached down for her and pulled her up to his side. Together they stumbled down the hallway. It wasn't long before he heard the soles of heavy shoes against the floor.

"Someone's coming!" Claire squeeked. She aimed her gun at the air in front of her. While Birkhoff could hear sounds in front of him, he felt a cold shiver down his back, alerting him there was something behind him. He let go of Claire's shoulder and pivoted just in time to see Roan turning the corner behind them. He heard two pops then felt the familiar two hits from the baseball bat. He heard a scream and another two pops. He tried to pull himself out of the line of fire.

He didn't hear Roan's boots as he closed the gap between them. And he wasn't thinking fast enough to retrieve his gun from where it fell between he and Claire. He wasn't thinking fast enough because Claire was lying next to him on the floor where he'd let her fall. She was laying very still.

When he saw Roan's boots it was already too late."no." he said simply while he kicked the gun out of Birkhoff's reach. "I don't think so."

He knelt down on one knee and checked Claire for a pulse. "humph" he said slightly as he started to raise his gun again.

The next shot Birkhoff heard was from a completely different gun, one with a silencer. He saw Roan fall back onto the ground. Birkhoff struggled to sit up amd as he did two strong hands pulled him up into a seated position. "shhh..." he heard someone hiss in his ear, he'd recognize her voice almost anywhere, Nikita. They both watched as Michael walked past both of them and over Claire until he came face to face with Roan.

"Michael." Roan coughed. As blood began to pour from his mouth.

"you threatened her." Michael said coldly to the dying man laying on the floor.

"you're sister?" he coughed and Birkhoff saw another trail of blood pour from the side of his mouth. "I killed her." he said with a slight smile creeping over his face.

Michael shot one last round into his head before turning and rounding on Claire's motionless form.

"what did you do!" he yelled at Birkhoff as he searched for a pulse. He waved the gun in Birkhoff's direction before his face suddenly softened. "I feel a pulse..." he said before he began to search for the source of the blood that caked her white t-shirt under the vest.

"the blood's not hers." he said quietly as he leaned harder against Nikita.

Michael's eyes slid down to where birkhoff held his side with a bloody hand. "let's go" he said as he easily pulled Claire up into his arms.

* * *

Her mind focused slowly, it was difficult to focus on the sounds that she knew were voices around her. A car door slammed, there was movement, and there was talking. When she did dare to open her eyes the world was hazy and dark. It took her several moments to decide that she was in a vehicle, but with whom, she wasn't sure. A sense of panic began to build inside of her, slowly at first then faster and faster. She tried to move but something was holding her down. She couldn't help it, she screamed and pulled at the thing holding her. She didn't think about her injured hand as she tried to free herself and before long she was crying out in pain and not panic. A paralyzing pain radiated up her left arm through her shoulder. "Claire, Stop!" She heard from somewhere around her.

"It's alright, don't flail." She heard another voice attempt to comfort her. She felt the restraints release. "Birkhoff!"

"Mikey, don't crash, Claire's not buckled." She heard Birkhoff say, his voice was much quieter than the others.

The more she tried to move the dizzier she felt, she felt a strong hand push her back against the car seat. "Don't move too much." Niktia's voice was strong and commanding but still comforting. "Give it time to wear off, don't force it." She said.

"Where are we?" Claire asked finding her mouth was as dry as cotton.

"Leaving Division, we'll be in the city in under an hour." Nikita said as she buckled the seatbelt. Claire found her eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness. Michael was driving the vehicle and Nikita was tending to her and Birkhoff in the back seat.

"B!" Claire shouted suddenly "You were shot!"

"Yea, I know." He answered curtly then seemed to backpedal. "I'm fine Babe, really." He said as he grasped her good hand.

"Birkhoff don't pass out!" She heard Michael shout from the front seat. "I don't want you going into shock."

Birkhoff nodded and held Claire's hand tight in the back of the car. He seemed calm as Nikita pressed rags and whatever she could find against the hole in his side. Every so often he winced and grabbed her hand just a little bit tighter.

"We need a doctor," Nikita said to Michael

"I know." he answered "I know about four guys we could call but Division knows all of them."

"I know a guy but he operates down in the Bronx, that's too far away."

"That might be our only option." Michael said.

"I know one" Claire said quietly "she'll come to Hoboken. "

"what's her number?" Michael asked

"5550963" she answered slowly, she was a little amazed she could remember it, she couldn't clearly remember escaping Division and that was only a few minutes ago.

"area code?" Michael asked

"619" Michael dialed the number from the front seat then hung up.

"it's no good, it's a voicemail for some pizza place."

"Give me the phone." Claire instructed. She redialed the number again and placed the phone on speaker. After a few rings, a voicemail picked up.

"Joey's _pizza leave your order and we'll call you back." _

"Hi, its Rach. I need a small, mac and cheese, um… medium pepperoni. Two sodas, a regular and a diet. No breadsticks. And delivery to Hoboken? Call back to confirm." She said shakily and ended the call.

"What the hell was that!" Nikita asked exasperatedly "you're ordering a pizza!"

"No," Michael interrupted. "That was code. single gunshot wound, possible overdose, and two non injured people accompanying, no pursuit." he glanced back into the rearview mirror. "right?"

"yea." Claire nodded.

The phone buzzed again, "Is this line secure?" Claire asked Michael

"Yes." Michael answered.

"Oh, Rose! I'm so glad you called back!" Lena cried "I'm ok," She listened a few seconds to Rose before speaking again. "I know… I know… I'll explain everything." She answered before Nikita reached over and pulled the phone out of her hands. "What are you!" she squeaked at Nikita but Birkhoff put a hand around her shoulder and stopped her.

"Its ok." He whispered.

The foggy part of her mind tried to listen to Nikita on the phone with Rose but she found the conversation difficult to follow. She let her head bob onto Birkhoff's shoulder, his presence was comforting, she felt safe cuddled against his hoodie. When he winced in pain a few seconds later she pulled her head up, to her surprise he was already watching her.

"Thank You." She said quietly. "you were very brave."

"You were pretty good too." He whispered, he took another deep breath and finished his thought. "Even if you are so drugged up you won't remember a thing tomorrow." She smiled softly and he returned a half grin.

"No, I won't." she said.

"I love you." he said

"Don't, don't you say your goodbyes" she answered. "Rose is gonna help you."

"I'm not saying goodbye." he said quietly he paused while he took another deep breath "I'm just gonna tell you that more often."

"ok." she said then she leaned in and kissed him. When she finally pulled away he watched her clumsy movements and ran his fingers through her hair.

"how are you doing?" he whispered

"I'm fine" she said quietly.

"I know you're fine..." he said, rested, then took another deep breath "How are you really?" he asked again.

Claire reflected for a moment then finally told the truth. "Like I got hit in the back with a baseball bat after having way, way too much to drink." She slid her head back down onto his shouder "I feel like I really need to just sleep it off..."

"Go ahead." he said "no one is shouting at you to stay awake." he said harshly as he looked over at the driver's seat.

"Don't be silly, I can't sleep if you're hurt."

"I'm fine." he said.

"You got shot."

"I remember." He said as he shifted slightly in the car seat. "I'm good, really. Go to sleep."

"Are you sure?" Claire asked again and he nodded.

"Don't worry." He said. She leaned up and kissed him before nuzzling herself next to him, she fell asleep in no time.

A few short seconds later there was yelling again. Yelling that was so loud it woke Claire from a sound sleep.

"wake up!" she heard someone yell. "drive faster!"

It took Claire a moment to comprehend the scene in front of her, Nikita was screaming at Birkhoff who was asleep on the seat between them. His head rolled from side to side with the movements of the car and despite Nikita's sharp voice he showed no signs of waking up. Then it hit her, not asleep...

"B!" She screamed as she grabbed the collar of his shirt. "No! Don't do this!"

* * *

**Hey guys... So we are almost to the end. One update left! Thanks for all your support please continue to review! **


	19. Chapter 19

**7000 words and 2 months later…. WE'RE DONE! And this was by far the hardest chapter to write. Writers block, my own procrastination habit, and perfectionist tendencies were totally getting the better of me. So I'm letting go, here it is, not perfect, not even close, but its finished. **

**Interchangeable names again… Lena/Claire = same person just depends who she's talking to.**

**Luke- See chapter 2 **

**Words cannot express how excited I am to have you all reading this story. If you don't make it to my mega long author note at the end of the chapter please take this as my sincere thank you for reading this story, every hit was encouragement to keep writing. THANK YOU!**

"_No really, I spent 45 minutes yesterday looking for feathers in our neighborhood" A teenage Michael complained his blond girlfriend as they walked side by side down a grocery store aisle. _

"_How hard is it to find a feather?" Elizabeth asked. She pulled a bottle of vegetable oil off the shelf. _

"_If you're looking for one you'll never find it." Michael said "I almost started pulling apart road kill just so I could go back inside." _

"_Eww! Gross Michael!" Elizabeth squealed._

_Michael laughed out loud. "Ok, I didn't get that desperate." He teased, then pulled the vegetable oil out of her hands and placed it back on the shelf. "Its not that kind of oil." He said kindly. _

"_She's going to use actual car oil?" Elizabeth questioned._

"_Yea," Michael answered. "She's mimicking an actual oil spill, she's going to soak feathers and fur in oil then use different detergents and soaps to see which clean the best." He explained. "Hence the feathers…" _

"_And the fur?" _

"_Now we're back to the road kill…" _

"_Michael!" She gasped and he laughed again. _

"_an old fur hat mom found at a thrift store." He said. "Now what else is on her list?"_

"_oil, two baking tins, two plastic storage containers, and like 5 different kinds of soap." She turned the list over in her hands. "All this for a first grade science project?"_

"_Second grade, and she's in the gifted program. Most of the other entries are fourth graders." He said "What kind of baking tins?" He asked while staring at the five shelves filled with tins of various sizes and shapes. He glanced down toward the end of the aisle where he had left Claire as she pulled every soap bottle from the shelves and read the ingredient lists. He felt his stomach drop slightly as he looked toward the racks of dish soap. He expected to see her busily inspecting the detergents but there was no one there. He scanned the rest of the aisle quickly but there was no little girl in a red sweatshirt. "Where'd she go?" _

_He stomped down to the end of the aisle then checked the rows on either side. His heart beat faster and faster as he checked and rechecked the aisles. _

"_Michael, calm down she's here somewhere." He heard Elizabeth's voice but it didn't calm him. He glanced down the rows of greeting cards, toothpastes, craft supplies, and shoes but she wasn't anywhere to be found. _

"_Claire!" Without thinking, he shouted her name. _

He snapped his head up from the back of the chair straining his neck in the process. His heart was still racing and his breathing was strangely shallow. He massaged the pain in his neck.

"Bad dream?" Nikita asked interrupting his thoughts. He looked around the living room of the strange apartment. Nikita was watching him intently from the other side of the immaculate living room near the entrance to the kitchen. behind her he could hear the gentle hum of the microwave.

"I must have nodded off…" he said. "what time is it?"

"6:30." She answered. "Rose left for work about fifteen minutes ago."

"I didn't hear her." He said as he dragged himself up from the chair.

"You needed the rest."

"How's Claire?" he asked.

"She's sleeping." Nikita glanced toward the doorway to her right. "So is Birkhoff, Rose gave him something to help him sleep, she said it would wear off in a few hours. Would you like some tea?"

He shook his head. "I'll make a pot of coffee." He shuffled stiffly toward the coffee pot.

"So what was the dream?" Nikita asked a few seconds later.

"Just an old memory." He said quietly without elaborating. He finished preparing the coffee then returned to the adjacent living room while it brewed. Nikita watched him but she didn't follow. He'd been very quiet since they'd returned from Division but then again so had she. He didn't say more than a few words during the two hours they spent at the clinic while Rose and Luke worked on Birkhoff. Most of the sparse words he had spoken were not even directed at her. He'd spoken to Rose and he'd tried to calm Claire they waited, but only a few direct questions had been said to her. Nikita was torn, she wanted to talk about their relationship and what had just happened between them, but she knew Michael's mind was occupied with other things. Under other circumstances perhaps she could ignore it, but it was just that everything that had happened last night was exactly what she'd wanted. She needed Michael to stop pretending she was his enemy. Last night he did that. Alex thought Michael was one of the many division enemies, she never bothered to tell her that finding Michael, the one she knew was one of the many steps in her ultimate goal, and it was never a step that she was willing to skip. She knew Michael had never really been all that far away, Michael would probably disagree. And She loved that last night when Michael needed a partner he instinctually thought of her. He didn't call Division, he didn't go it alone, he found her. The walls Michael put up weren't completely gone but they were crumbling.

She watched Michael simply stare at the coffee table still dressed in the suit he'd worn to Division yesterday. The only times she'd ever seen him out of the dark suit were on missions. She silently wondered what outfit he would choose when not confined by a Division dress code.

There was one trait that almost every Division agent shared, they all had the ability to sit as still as a statue for long periods of time. Nikita had the ability, and so did Michael. Michael's entire body sat immobile on the couch, he blinked, and his shoulders rose and fell softly with each breath but outside of those small movements he was as still as a photograph.

He'd tried to piece it all together last night but it still didn't make one bit of sense to him. How could a person he thought had been dead for almost thirteen years return to his life so suddenly? He hated trying to think back to that time in his life, it was almost as painful as remembering Haley and Elizabeth, but having Claire here forced him remember. So much of it was a blur. He remembered the day the car accident happened. The day started out so ordinary, nothing was out of place. His flight from Virginia to O'Hare was easy, he hadn't been detained at security, the flight was on time, they hadn't even hit turbulence but getting off that flight changed his life forever. He was surprised, that day, when his family wasn't waiting for him at the gate. When he'd returned from other assignments his family was always there waiting. He used to think it was childish, after all he was an adult, and they didn't go meet their father at the airport after every business trip. Why did they always have to come to get him? Claire would run up and nearly tackle him, his mother would trail her only by a few footsteps and pull him into a tearful hug. His father was always more reserved, he'd watch from a distance but when Michael came over he'd give him a one armed hug and welcome him home. But that day he made his way to the baggage claim alone. His duffle bag was one of the first to come through but he didn't leave the baggage area. He sat down in a chair and waited for his family to appear. It was snowing so they must have gotten stuck in traffic. That seemed the most likely explanation. After almost an hour and a half he heard his name over the loudspeaker telling him to come to the service center. He wandered around for another half hour trying to find the service center in the vast international airport but he finally found it. It was the woman at the counter that first alerted him that something was very wrong. She looked him up and down taking in his uniform and military baggage then turned suddenly away from him as she stifled what appeared to be tears. A second later a man stepped out from behind a cubical.

"Michael Samuelle?" he asked.

"Yes sir." Michael answered as he'd been taught.

"Come in son, the door just to the right there." He gestured

When Michael pushed open the door he saw three policemen standing in the tiny room. He didn't remember much after that. The next few months had been a haze.

Nikita set a mug of coffee down in the spot on the coffee table where Michael had been staring and sat down on the couch next to him.

"What are you thinking?" She asked.

He hesitated a moment before answering her, he wasn't used to other people invading his brooding "Everything's changed." he said

"A lot has changed." Nikita responded. "but not everything."

"My sister that's been dead for 13 years suddenly shows up alive. I'd say that's a game changer." He spat back a little too harshly.

"Of course it is." Nikita said calmly "But her being here just moved life faster, I think we would have gotten here all along."

Again he hesitated before answering. He was aware that Nikita was trying to change the subject, at first he thought about objecting but then he thought better, there would be time to talk about and with Claire when she woke up. Now was the only private time he would have with Nikita for now, and even though his sister had reappeared, he didn't want her to be neglected. "We're not talking about Claire."

"You and I would be here eventually." She said as she took his hand, he didn't pull away.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly. "I pushed you away all that time because I thought it was best for both of us. It was against the rules and I wasn't ready for that."

"And now?" Nikita asked.

"What rules?" Michael asked exasperatedly. "I just broke into Division, helped a prisoner escape, killed a coworker, and openly declared and alliance with their priority 1 target. I don't think the rules apply anymore."

* * *

When Claire woke up she was greeted by the familiar weight of her comforter. She opened her eyes to find it was early in the morning. The light coming from her window illuminated the room slightly, enough for her to see its contents but not quite enough to take in all the colors. She pulled slightly at the black zip up sweatshirt she was wearing, it was uncomfortable. It was pulling across her chest and shoulders. She found the zipper with her good hand and pulled down. When she finally released the pressure across her chest she explored the other side of the bed. Birkhoff was laying next to her fast asleep. She shifted cautiously toward him, then shook his shoulder slightly "B?" she whispered into his ear but he showed no sign of hearing her. She raised her fingers to a small patch of fresh stitches along his hairline. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his breathing was different, she couldn't quite put her finger on how it was different but something didn't seem right. She pushed the blanket off of him to find a small dark stain on the bottom of his gray t-shirt, just above his boxers. When she pulled back the t-shirt she found a large dressing over some kind of wound. "Oh God, what happened to you B?" she asked quietly as she put his shirt back down. On his arm she found an IV lodged in his fore arm. She followed the tubing up to the infusion pump. As she leaned over Birkhoff to read the labels on the bags she heard him groan. "Sorry!" she said automatically. She decided the IV didn't look dangerous, it just looked like fluids.

The rational part of her mind knew that if she was in her own apartment she must be safe but there was anxiety building from deep inside her that was quickly taking over. There were serious holes in her memory, she had bruises and injuries she couldn't account for, and what was Birkhoff doing in the bed next to her? She tried to think back and piece together the last day but that only made her more anxious.

She could remember the woman inside Division threatening her with drugs, maybe, she was hallucinating. Maybe she wasn't actually in her bedroom at all. She crawled out of the bed and crept over to the bedroom door. She could hear quiet whispers coming from the living room but she wasn't sure to whom the voices belonged. Without much thought she crossed over into her closet and dove into the far corner. Behind the rows of shoes she found her spare weapon. She sat crosslegged on the floor of the closet and checked to make sure the gun was properly loaded. She watched as the doorknob turned slowly and a head peaked into the room. A young blond haired man looked first at the bed then carefully around the room. When his eyes reached the closet Claire had the gun pointed in his direction.

"Oh, shit!" She heard him yell as he bolted from the room. "Lena!" She heard him shour a moment later. She put the safety back on the gun and placed it into her lap. "Lena, I'm not gonna hurt you!" she heard Luke's frantic boyish voice on the other side of the door.

"Sorry." She said just loud enough for him to hear.

"Can I open the door?" he asked

"Yea."

"You're cool?" he asked again.

"Yes." Lena said quietly. She watched as the door opened but Luke didn't immediately enter.

"I'm unarmed…" He said again. Then she saw his soft blue eyes peek around the door, when his eyes found the gun settled in her lap he stepped all the way into the room. He approached her slowly then reached toward the gun.

"No!" she said as she turned away from him protecting her weapon "Owww!" she shrieked as she turned. Luke looked on with pity written all over his face.

"Rose says you have a couple cracked ribs." He said quietly, "that's why it hurts to turn." Lena nodded slightly.

"Where's Rose?" she asked him

"She had to work, she left about an hour ago." He sat down on the floor next to her. "I told her I'd keep an eye on you."

"What time is it?"

"7:05" he answered. She nodded slightly then her eyes started to search the room again. "How are you feeling?"

Lena's eyes filled up with tears. "I don't know." She said honestly. Although her mind was filled with holes it didn't feel like she'd fallen asleep and then woken up a moment later, there was blank spaces where she knew there should be memories and hazy recollections that she wasn't sure ever happened. "I… I don't remember…"

"Yea, you were F-ed up last night." He said "Now I don't know how you got to point A to point B, but I can fill in part of the hole. I think he can help you out with that when he wakes up." He said glancing over at the bed.

"Is he gonna be ok?" Lena asked looking over at Birkhoff's still form in the bed.

"Yea. Rose patched him up pretty good." Luke answered. "He'll be awake in a few hours, she gave him something pretty strong to help him sleep."

"Am I hallucinating?" she asked quietly.

Luke smiled then put one arm around her shoulder. "Ah, that's why you pointed a gun in my face. No dear, this is real I promise."

Luke recounted everything that had happened since Michael and Nikita had shown up in New Jersey with Lena and Birkhoff. He told her how they'd gotten there just in time, another minute or two and 'jerkhoff' would be dead.

"don't call him that" she defended.

Luke shot her a knowing look then agreed. He also told her how uncomfortable Michael and Nikita's presence in the living room was making him.

"One of them is always watching me." He complained "They think I'm a threat! That guy especially, I can't even turn my back on him. And they're armed, both of them. So, I am too." He showed Lena a gun tucked under his sweatshirt.

"I tried to throw them out…" he said honestly. "they won't go and they won't tell me anything." Luke glanced over toward the door then whispered to Lena "Do you know them?" he asked.

"Yea…" Lena confirmed

"They're agents." He said under his breath. "Both of them…"

Lena nodded in confirmation. He sighed, "Oh, Lena, What did you get yourself caught up in?"

She pulled herself out of his grasp. "Its safer if you don't know."

Luke leaned back against the closet door. "Will not knowing get me killed anyway?"

"No," Lena answered, she could only assume they were safe here. Nikita had always been good at staying undetected.

"I'm sure I'll find out soon enough." He sighed. "Is that guy out on the couch going to shoot me in my sleep?"

"Michael is still here?" she asked.

"Yea, that's what I just said." Luke grumbled.

"Is he angry?"

"I don't know how to answer that…" he said "He's quiet but I don't think he's angry." Lena listened then became distracted again by the hoodie that was too small for her.

"Who's is this?" She snapped suddenly. "Its choking me." She exclaimed as she tried to get out of it using only one arm.

"Stop. Stop!" Luke said as he reached to help her out of the sweatshirt "Seriously its choking you? Its already unzipped-"

"Choking my arms!"

"Drama queen." He said has he pulled the last sleeve carefully over her broken wrist.

"So yay or nay on the getting shot in my sleep?" Luke asked sarcastically bringing her back to the subject, Lena could tell there was genuine concern behind the question.

"Nay." She said with a slight smile. "But keep your mouth shut just in case."

"Then I suggest you get cleaned up before you come out and meet your _friends. _From what I gather there's no rush, I think you'll be more comfortable after a shower."

"Do I look that bad?" she asked somewhat jokingly as Luke helped her to her feet.

"You know, I'm not gonna lie, I think you are always beautiful but today is not one of your best hair days."

Now that the sweatshirt was off, Lena surveyed the bruises that seemed to cover the entire extent of her arms. Luke shoved a pair of black leggings into her arms followed by a clean white tank top, next he pulled the oversized cardigan off the front of the door exposing the full length mirror that had previously been obscured.

"Oh," She whispered as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. She felt her breath leave her chest and felt herself sway slightly before Luke's arm wrapped tightly around her waist. She winced at his touch, he'd grabbed her on top of some other bruise or injury and even though his grip was steadying, it hurt. She let the leggings and tank top fall to the floor as she reached up and gently touched her battered face. Her nose was clearly broken, her lips were both split, both eyes were black and blue and there was a cut along her jaw line that she didn't remember getting.

"Give it a week." Luke tried to comfort her. "I've seen you banged up before. It always heals."

* * *

Vanilla and Hazelnut, the first things that penetrate his senses. Where ever he is, it smells like Claire. He opens his eyes and silently surveys the room. His vision is blurry, he instinctually reaches for his glasses on the bedside table but, of course, it is empty. To his right, a window unchecked by blinds or drapes allowing the morning sun to fill the room. An IV cart towers over the tiny bedside table. In front of him he can see a large book case filled with various books, pottery, and frames, all of which contain artwork, there are no photographs adorning this room. He turns his head to the other side of the room and finds woman he is looking for. The woman, he will always be looking for.

Her back is turned to him as she fusses with her hair in the mirror. He can't help but watch her, _she is so beautiful_. He thinks as he watches her pick at the wild curls. After a few moments she turns slightly and sees the reflection in the mirror of him watching her.

"You're awake!" She gasps and steps toward him. Her movements are taught and awkward. He knows immediately that she's still in pain.

"I don't need much sleep." He says with a smile. He sits up slowly in the bed exhaling through the pain in his abdomen as he moves. She crawls onto the bed next to him and when her eyes meet his he doesn't hesitate. A thousand unspoken words pass between them in a fraction of a second. Their broken bodies draw together until he can feel her heavenly breath on his face. He pulls her toward him then stops, close but not yet touching her sweet lips, he waits. She comes to him.

In an instant… all is forgiven.

* * *

"Lets just stay here." Claire said quietly as she laid her head on Birkhoff's shoulder. She couldn't think of anywhere she'd rather be. Birkhoff was back, Michael was safe, and somehow she was still alive. Perhaps the whole thing could have played out smoother but she couldn't argue with the outcome. The anxiety she'd felt after she first woke up this morning was all but gone. When Birkhoff came around, it shrunk to a tiny flutter inside her stomach.

She felt Birkhoff turn his head to rest his chin on her hair. He was quiet, but she knew he wasn't asleep, and neither was she. After a while she could feel him beginning to shift uncomfortably. After a few jossles of the bed she sat up. "Are you in pain?" She asked.

"Only when I move." He said, Claire reached carefully across his body and pulled his shirt up to reveal the bandage that was stained with blood.

"I think we need to change that." She said, Birkhoff winced and shook his head.

"No its ok." He groaned but Claire didn't notice she crawled off the bed and walked around to the other side where she found a small box of medical equipment. "No, babe seriously I'm fine." He argued but Claire pulled out gloves and new dressings. "Let's let Rose do it when she gets back."

"Its not that big of a deal." Claire argued as she began to work. Birkhoff turned away at the first sight of his own mangled flesh.

"Oh, that's gross." He squirmed as he tried to breathe, he felt his head swim and he was glad he was already laying down. He didn't look at the wound he tried to keep his attention focused on Claire. She was methodical as she cleaned the wound and applied the new bandages. She was quick but careful, she knew exactly what she was doing. "You've done this before?" He asked as she finished and found the garbage to dispose of the wrappers.

Her eyes softened as she crawled back onto the bed. "Once or twice."

She started to crawl back under the blankets before he stopped her. "Are Nikita and Michael still here?"

"I think so." She said ignoring his arm and pushing her way back under the comforter.

"We should go out there." He said.

"Why?" she snapped back suddenly.

"Why?" he repeated in surprise. "Uh… Because… Well without them this wouldn't have gone very well." He finally stammered.

"We'll get to them." Claire said as she tried to cuddle against Birkhoff's left arm.

"I really think we should go out now." Birkhoff argued pulling away slightly

"You need your rest."

"I'm fine."

"No you're not."

"Whats wrong with you?" He questioned sharply.

"I just think you should rest." She said definitively, she was unshaken by his harsh tone.

"Fine then you go out."

"I'm not leaving you."

"Are you…" He started then rephrased as her eyes grew narrow. "Don't you want to talk to Michael?"

Her eyes narrowed and she rolled over onto her back not meeting his gaze. He waited for a response but when none came he started to get up. He stood up quickly on his side of the bed and took one quick step before the pain in his side forced him to grab the nearby wall for support. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to call out in pain but he heard a noise escape his mouth. When he opened his eyes again she was in front of him, with one arm wrapped tightly around his waist the other gripping his arm. She guided him back toward the bed. He sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to catch his breath.

"That was stupid." She spat, as she released him.

As she pulled away Birkhoff caught her wrist. "Don't shut me out." He cautioned, he watched as her deep chestnut eyes softened. She shook her head slightly.

"Its stupid." She prefaced. Birkhoff pulled her in closer and let his other hand rest on her hip. "No, I can't say it." She squirmed.

He tried to give her an encouraging smile. "I won't judge."

"What if." She stopped. "Oh god… its dumb… what if he doesn't like me?"

"What?" He said stifling a laugh.

"I know!" Claire said with embarrassment. "But B. what if he doesn't like me and he just disappears."

"Ok, no-" Birkhoff began.

"-B he's the only family I have left." She said honestly.

Birkhoff turned his head to the side questioningly as he decided how he wanted to respond. He after a moment he went back to the reasons he was trying to tell her before she interrupted him.

"Ok see that's just not gonna happen. He said "First, how could he not like you? You're my favorite person on earth. I can't imagine anyone not liking you." he stopped and kissed her forehead. "And second, I know Michael better than almost anyone else, and I know that Michael is seriously loyal. He's not going anywhere, you're stuck with him, like it or not."

"You really think so?"

"Yea, I do." He smiled softly then carefully got up from the bed. "Come on." He said offering his hand to her. She took it and followed him slowly to the bed room door. Suddenly he stopped, "Wait! there's a third… He's protective."

"Ok…" Claire commented without paying nearly as much attention to Birkhoff's statement as he wanted.

He slid his hand out of her grasp and doubled back deeper into the room looking all over the bed and nearby dresser.

"What are you looking for?" she asked.

"Michael is protective like Gollum to the one ring."

"Oh come on." Claire said as she rolled her eyes slightly.

"He's gonna shoot me." He said.

"I doubt that—"

"I'm sleeping with his _little_ sister." He argued. "He's shot guys for doing a lot less!" He turned and bent down to look under the bed. "Is my Kevlar in here?"

She shot him a stare that stopped him in his tracks. He crept back across the room and took his place at her side. "I'm only half kidding."

* * *

When Claire and Birkhoff emerged from the bedroom they found Nikita and Michael sitting calmly on the couch. One of her legs was draped over his and she was caressing his chest lovingly and smiling slightly. Although Michael's face was still serious, there was a light in his eyes that she hadn't seen before. A second later they noticed them. Nikita stood quickly and crossed the room. "I'm so glad you're here." She said as she pulled her into a cautious hug.

"Thank you." Claire said, "for everything you did." Nikita smiled slightly then turned to Birkhoff.

"I didn't know you had it in you, Nerd." She pulled him into a stronger hug. He nodded slightly and stood stiff in Nikita's embrace.

As Nikita stepped aside Michael's weary eyes searched her. She shifted awkwardly knowing his gaze was focused so intensely on her. She didn't know what to say, she didn't know where to go, she wanted to leave but she knew she needed to stay. Finally, after what seemed like a very long time he spoke.

"I could have killed you." He said quite but stern. "Do you know how reckless that was?"

"Yes." Claire managed to say through a jaw that seemed glued shut.

"stupid." He growled as he stood from the couch.

"Mikey…" Birkhoff began

"I will get to you!" He shouted without taking his eyes off Claire. He stepped across the living room toward her. "What were you thinking!"

"Michael." Nikita said appesingly as she moved slightly toward him, she put a cautious hand on his shoulder trying to calm him. For a second it seemed to work as he dropped his gaze and took her hand from his shoulder and held it in his. But when Claire spoke again the anger resurfaced as quickly as it had subsided.

"Don't you dare call me stupid." Claire said sharply "You have no idea what I've lived!"

He stared at her angrily before moving on, "Damit Claire!" He barked "why didn't you tell me!"

"Would you have believed me?" Claire asked, Michael didn't answer her instead his jaw tightened.

"No," Nikita said from somewhere in the background. Claire saw Michael's eyes shift toward Nikita then back to her.

"I knew what I was doing." Claire said

"So, You had a plan!" Michael bellowed

"kinda"

"Well, Your plan sucked!"

"I wouldn't exactly call it a plan… more of a goal."

"A goal?" he questioned sarcastically "Take your _Goal_ back to the soccer field where it belongs because your piss poor planning nearly got us all killed."

"Fine!" Claire conceded angrily "maybe my plan sucked! But it succeeded!"

"It only worked because everyone here bailed you out!"

"I never planned to go it alone."

"you had no right..." michael said getting face to face with her.

"no right to do what?" Claire interrupted him pushing back into his face "no right to the brother I lost? No right to take back what they took from me? The right to a normal life? What exactly did I do that was so extreme?"

"no right to risk your life." he whispered, and up close Claire could tell that what she, and everyone else in the room had perceived as anger was really something else. "not for me."

"I was just trying to find you."

"I wasn't lost!" he said.

"Yes you were!" Claire argued "Maybe you still are!"

"No, I'm just not the person you were hoping to find."

"I think you are." She said quietly. She reached up cautiously and put her good hand on his shoulder. "But they broke you."

"You don't know anything about me." Michael said as he eyed the hand on his arm, he didn't pull away.

Claire nodded, she didn't know much about him and he knew even less about the woman she was today."I know you promised to come back for me."

Although Nikita and Birkhoff might not have understood Claire's last comment, Michael did. What was left of his stoic demeanor shattered. He took as step back and shook his head. "Don't you see…" He said quietly. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. I'm not the brother you remember."

"At first I was angry." She continued not allowing him to back away from her. "but then I realized, there were only two reasons why you didn't find me. Either you didn't know, or you were in trouble yourself and couldn't come."

"I didn't know…" he answered. "I would have…"

"Turns out they were both true." She reached out again and pulled at the buttons on his jacket. "They've been lying to you… and can't you see that they're wrong." She asked, looking up to his face. " What have they offered you that makes you to stand by and do nothing?"

Again he pulled back and took a quick breath in, Claire instantly saw one of Michael's countless walls return. "Kasim." Birkhoff answered from somewhere behind her. Michael continued to look at blank point on the wall but his jaw clenched slightly.

"The offered you justice for Elizabeth and Haley." She stated and Michael nodded a fraction of an inch in confirmation. "Then we'll find him."

"Its not that easy." Michael confessed. "I have changed, in ways you can't imagine, Claire. Knowing me will only lead to disappointment."

"The brother I remember… the only brother I remember is the one who promised to come back, and last night you did."

* * *

Two months later…

Birkhoff quietly pecked away at his laptop on the patio of their apartment overlooking the ocean. It was early afternoon and the sun was shining bright on his screen. The sun's glare on the screen made it difficult for him to work but he didn't move in side. In less than an hour he and Claire would begin their journey back to New Jersey. Back to reality, a place Birkhoff wasn't sure he wanted to go.

Nikita, Michael, and Alex wanted him back. Nikita and Alex wanted Claire back, but Michael wanted Claire to stay right where she was, hidden, safe, comfortable, and away from the life that waited for her back in the States. He and Claire had spent the last two months running back and forth to the mainland for surgeries and doctors appointments but in between the many ferry boat rides they'd managed to get their relationship in a better place. A place that wasn't hampered by lies and half truths, it was different than before, it was better

While Claire focused on getting healthy, Birkhoff kept himself busy paging through thousands of pages of documents. Part of his day was always spent managing his money, and keeping his accounts untraceable. He'd been siphoning money from thousands of nameless back accounts since before he entered Division. For years his system required very little maintenance but now that he was getting close to using some of the funds he needed to make sure everything was secure. The other documents that consumed his attention came from a variety of sources. Some of the documents were his own personal Division mission files. He had copies of every Division mission in which he'd ever been involved. He pulled files on every mission Nikita had done, and he had most of Michael's files. He had files that outlined Division security, transmissions, encryption, and tracking. It was all those files that consumed most of Birkhoff's first few weeks in Capri, but lately he'd been working in files that he hadn't looked at in years. They were Shadowalker's files.

Claire didn't asked what he'd been working on. She knew he was looking into things she didn't want to talk about. She didn't want to talk about Division, the Alliance, or what awaited them back in New Jersey.

He glanced up from his work as Claire appeared from the patio door toting her suitcase overnight bag, and another oversized purse. She leaned the suitcase it up against the wall, and let the other two bags rest on the stone floor. Only then did she turn to him and smile. He couldn't help it, her smile always took his breath away. "Its clean" She said as she walked toward him. "I hope you enjoy my new perfume, by channel… its called Bleach" She laughed slightly as Birkhoff wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. She slid one arm around his shoulder before he cried out.

"Ah!" He winced.

"Sorry!" She said smiling. "Sunburn. I keep forgetting."

"Yea, keep laughing." He grumbled. "When I get skin cancer, I'm gonna blame you."

"Oh come on, we had fun!" she argued.

"Keep the aloe close… that's all that I ask." He answered.

"Its in my purse." She said then she grew quiet as she turned her body toward the ocean. Birkhoff closed his laptop, then followed her gaze. He rested his chin on her shoulder blade as they sat quietly for a few moments. Finally he reached up and turned her face back toward his.

"We don't have to go back." He said sincerely, and in the moment, he meant it. He had more than enough money and skills to provide for them for the rest of their lives. The last two months had been everything he ever wanted, he could make that last forever.

"Yes, we do." She said with tears filling her eyes. Birkhoff reached up and cupped her face in his hand.

"No…" he said, pleading with her, saying anything to stop the tears.

"We have to finish it B." she said quietly.

"Its not going to be easy." He answered.

"no one said it would be."

"Division is powerful, they are highly organized with branches all over the world. If… and I'm saying big _if_ here… If we can take them down, its going to take a long time." he stopped talking as he tightened his grip around her waist. "there will be losses..."

"I'm afraid too," she said as she relaxed into his arms. "but we can't let that fear drive our decisions." Birkhoff held her in silence for what seemed like a long time before speaking again.

"I don't even have a place to start. I have nothing to go on, I mean I don't know what Nikita has up her sleeve but I'm drawing a big old blank in the strategy department."

"I know..."

"Seriously, I've been combing these files for the last two months and nothing! I have access to more data, more encrypted files, more security specs than I can sort through and I can't even get the engine on this truck to turn over. Nothing is going to come easy in this fight..."

"It's not about what's easy B. it's about what's right."

"Sometimes we must choose between what is right and what is easy." Birkhoff quoted rolling his eyes at her.

"And I think we need to choose what's right, Albus." Claire answered and Birkhoff smirked. "And as for the strategy problem, I may have an idea for that." She climbed off his lap and returned to her bags leaning against the wall. She brought her overnight bag to the table and began to dig inside. She pulled out a large make up bag and set it infront of Birkhoff. "I'm guessing you can work some magic with that."

Birkhoff looked back and forth between Claire and the pink make up bag in front of him. "There are so many bad jokes running through my mind right now…." He finally said "Like did you hear the one about the Scottish Dr—"

"—Open it!" Claire interrupted with a laugh.

"Nah…" Birkhoff answered. "I don't open your purse and I'm sure as heck not going through your make-up."

"Fine!" Claire snapped. She unzipped the pink bag and tipped it allowing a black plastic hard drive, the size of a novel, to fall out onto the table.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER- OK THIS CHAPTER IS KINDA ROUGH! Don't leave sad, disapointed, or mean reviews please! Only nice thoughts till after the weekend... I'm gonna edit a bit over the weekend and repost, but I wanted it up before the finale for the U.S. If you come back and read it again and it still sucks... leave your dissapointed reviews. **

**Thank You for reading! That is the end. Please review, especially those of you who up until this point have been silent but I know you're out there reading! If you've read the entire thing, PLEASE review! I want to hear from you. To all those who have been faithfully reviewing all along you are my favorites!**

**I started a Polyvore Account (I know, lets just add that to my pinterest, facebook, and twitter addictions, clearly I have too much time on my hands) its under the same screen name as this account, so if you're interested in some of the outfits I put together for Claire pop over there and use the search function, choose "Search members" from the dropdown menu.**

**I'll probably continue to post Fanfiction under Nikita. I'm currently playing with a back story for Birkhoff but I'm not sure if it will become post worthy, honestly its sort of depressing and you all know the ending… he ends up in Division. But the ShadowWalker episode gave me a lot of good material, so I think its getting better! If I can figure out a way to write him more on character, and make it less depressing and more interesting, I'll post. Other than that watch for some one shots, probably featuring my favorite Birkhoff!**


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